Damsel in Distress
by roses in bloom
Summary: A story of obsession, boys in ski masks, and the ever so lovable couple of Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini. Warning: Randomness may ensue.
1. Conviently Placed Magazines

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...trust me, I don't.

Chapter 1:

Obsession and a Conveniently Placed Magazine

---

It curled at the end. That was all she could focus on: that wonderful head full of thick, black hair that curled at the end.

Damn that Blaise Zabini! He must have done something to her…an obsession draught in her morning pumpkin juice, perhaps? No, too many witnesses. He **_was_** a Slytherin after all, and didn't they pride themselves on stealth?

Well, whatever the cause, it was all Zabini's fault that she couldn't pay attention in Arithmancy, which was normally her favorite class.

'_If only he weren't so attractive… Wait, no! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts!'_

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger!"

Flustered at Professor Vector's disruption of her awkward thoughts, Hermione composed herself as much as possible, and replied with a poor imitation of her usual rapture.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I asked whether or not it is possible to have conflicting traits in the numbers."

"Yes, yes…" Hermione trailed off getting a glazed look in her eyes, announcing to the world that the studious Hermione would not be returning soon.

Head nodding slightly, Professor Vector turned back to the rest of the class.

"As I was saying, conflicts are possible. For instance take the numbers 2 and 4. In fact give me 12 inches on those traits, due Thursday. You are dismissed."

Stuffing her parchment into her book bag, Hermione was finally able to focus again, as her 'distraction' melted into the crowded hallway and out of sight.

'_If only he was always invisible.'_

However her new found focus was extremely short-lived. In fact its lifespan only consisted of five minutes. Throughout the day, Hermione found it harder and harder to concentrate as thoughts of Blaise Zabini floated in her head.

After snapping at the lot of Gryffindor boys in the common room, Hermione rested in the sanctuary that was her dormitory in search of some resemblance to peace.

But…alas. Her sought after peace was not to be. Parvarti and Lavender had also chosen to retire and couldn't help but share some 'fascinating tidbits' they found in the latest 'Teen Witch'.

"Studies show that men are very complicated beings-"

"They didn't need any studies done; we could've told them that."

"However one similarity remains consistently true in all of them-"

"What!"

"All men suffer from the need to protect. Hence the theory that many women of today rise to this need with what we like to call, 'Damsel in Distress Syndrome'."

And so was born the idea in Hermione's mind, to subtly seduce Blaise Zabini by acting completely helpless. Because of course to get him out of her thoughts, she would need to show herself that there was nothing special about that black haired, blue eyed, nicely built Slytherin. Nothing at all…or, at least not much.

---


	2. Explanations of the Confusing Sort

Chapter2:

Explanations of the Confusing Kind

---

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, Neville, you do."

"But…you want me to attack you?"

"Yes, Neville, I do."

"Why?"

"…to test my reaction time of course!"

"Oh…I still don't understand."

"Well, I do. And that's enough."

"Okay. But, why is Ginny here?"

"…I don't know Neville. I don't know."

Hoping against hope that Ginny was there only for a quick chat, Hermione turned and led Ginny out of Neville's hearing range. Making sure she looked upbeat and not obsessive, Hermione opened her mouth to speak- and was silenced by Ginny speaking first.

Damn rotten luck.

"Well, well, Hermione. Now what have you been up to lately? Zoning out in classes, procrastinating on homework, periodically whispering 'sneaky, sneaky Slytherin' during the day…Me thinks you have an unhealthy obsession with a certain somebody."

"Who? Me?" Putting on her best innocent look, Hermione searched frantically for anything to throw Ginny off the scent of her 'love life' non-existent as it was.

"Yes, Hermione. You."

"Well…I" 'Pause for effect, old girl, and for the love of Merlin! Stop twitching!'

"I simply am looking out for the betterment of our school, dearest Ginny."

"And that means having Neville attack you under the pretense of testing reaction time? Hermione…something is going on with you, and I would just** love** to know what it is. So, 'fess up!"

'_Argh. Foiled again.' _Deciding that "'fessing up" would be much more profitable than being hit with a nefarious Bat Bogey hex, Hermione sighed and gave up.

"All right, all right! I'll tell…but Ginny I swear by all that is wonderful and studious in the world, I will torture you beyond human limit if you **at all **leak this out."

Ginny rolled her eyes and performed the customary witch scout vow, complete with the three-fingered salute at the end. Hermione growled lowly and contemplated the consequences of the earlier mentioned torture.

"Ginny, please be serious." Naturally she cleared her throat while closing her eyes and holding a fist to her mouth. This pose was supposed to create the illusion of authority and general 'know-how', but sadly this position did not mix well with the slightly crazed gleam previously in Hermione's eyes.

"As I was saying, today in Arithmancy I discovered that I could not focus in the class. I was, naturally, quite disturbed by this, and brought it upon myself to find the cause behind this irregularity. Well…I found it. The cause, that is."

"And…it would be what?"

"Blaise Zabini."

"…Really now."

"Of course! For some odd reason I have chosen to be preoccupied by him. It's really quite natural when you think about it. I mean we know nearly nothing about him, and so it is quite logical that I should want to…"

"Fancy him?"

"NO!" _'…just a bit.'_ "Simply…investigate him."

"But, how does that tie in with Neville attacking you?"

'_Right. Good show, almost have her convinced.'_

"Well, I have to attract his attention somehow. And, what better way to see if he is a 'true' Slytherin, than by seeing whether or not he saves a Gryffindor girl?"

"I suppose."

"Don't worry Ginny. My plan is foolproof." _'Almost foolproof, anyway.'_


	3. Infinite Knowledge Provided by the Telly

Chapter 3:

Stick Downs and Pointless Debates

---

It really wasn't fair. **Everything** had been perfect. Neville was in position, Ginny was being quiet, and Hermione was prowling the hallway watching and waiting for Blaise Zabini.

If only she had remembered that the day was Tuesday…

Everyone knew- well…everyone who stalked Zabini, that is- that Slytherins had Transfiguration on Tuesdays at that particular time, and that Zabini blew off steam by ducking down to the dungeons…accompanied by Draco Malfoy.

Hermione had hidden in the Shadows ready to signal Neville the minute she spotted the infamous Zabini. But, sadly she forgot to calculate into the equation, the friendship between Subject A and other, namely Zabini and Malfoy respectively. The meeting had, for lack of better words, exploded into chaos.

---

_Flashback_

* * *

Glancing around Hermione hurriedly pulled a parchment from her robes. Whispering the proper words she scoured the "borrowed" map for any trace of Zabini. An unchecked laugh bubbled out of her when she spotted his name in the loopy font. Sadly, this euphoria was brought to a gruesome end when she noticed another name right alongside of her target's. _'Draco bloody Malfoy…'_

Growling she wondered whether or not to proceed with the plan. _'To act, or not to act…that is the question.'_ After deciding that using a massacred line from Shakespeare probably wouldn't help the current situation, Hermione thought once more.

'_Ah. What the hell. Worst situation…I annoy the bloody daylights out of that prat.'_

Seeing they were near, Hermione signaled Neville and the game had begun.

"McGonagall had the nerve to **scold** me for being 'excessively loud'. Can you believe that old-"

Cue the awkward silence. But, of course the abnormality of the situation did call for some sort of recognition.

The scene was set as such: Neville, getting really into his character, was standing over Hermione, who looked like the perfect example of a damsel in distress. Meanwhile a few feet away stood Draco Malfoy, struck speechless at the sight of an unknown idiot wearing what resembled a muggle ski mask, and lastly Blaise Zabini, focused on the girl on the floor, an unknown gleam in his eyes.

Neville coughed uncomfortably- he really didn't want to do this but…oh well, might as well have some fun.

Cough. "Um…This-this is a stick down. Give me all your-" Cough. "All your stuff. Yeah."

Malfoy smirked- he watched the contraption called the television, so of course he knew the right saying.

"Idiot. It's 'This is a stick up. Give me all your money.' Really, amateur…"

"Hey! I'm under a lot of pressure right now. Just you try to wear this blasted thing!"

Hermione cracked one eye open from her position on the floor. Sighing discouragingly, she got up and joined Zabini by the window. Together they watched the shouting match between the other two, the subject still revolving around who could rob better.

Snorting in derision, Zabini straightened.

"Draco, I'm leaving. Finish your debate if you wish."

Draco pouted like a little boy just denied an ice cream cone during the month of August. Glaring spitefully at his 'opponent' he pivoted while muttering "I shall return."

Hermione frowned. _'Well, that was a waste.'_ Ignoring Neville's attempts to tear the confining mask off of his head, Hermione turned swiftly and hurried back to her dorm.

Obviously she would have to prepare more.

---


	4. Short Contemplations

Chapter 4:

Short Contemplations and Irritated Outbursts

---

Hermione pouted and rolled over onto her stomach.

'_Ugh. Good plans take too long to plan.'_

After the unsuccessful incident in the hallway, Hermione had sought refuge in her dormitory and after a few minutes of self pity had decided to move on and devise another scheme. Now she could be found on her bed staring blankly at a parchment, chewing on a quill.

Hoping to cure the depressing emptiness of her mind, Hermione stood and walked over to Parvarti's four-poster. Reaching underneath it she pulled out a stack of magazines and plopped back on her own bed. Sorting through them she muttered to herself…well, at least no one was watching.

"How to get your man to let go…no. Attract more than passing glances…maybe. Know the signs! Is that man in love with you?..." Looking around the room, Hermione stuffed the magazine under her mattress.

'_Who knows, it might come in handy later_.' "Pssh. Yeah right."

Continuing to leaf through the worthless, brain-cell-reducing reading material, she quickly grew frustrated and threw How to control his libido…and more! at a nearby wall.

"Ugh! This is getting me nowhere!"

And then…she felt the annoying feeling of having something annoying stuck in her back. Sitting up crossly, she reached…and came up with 3 easy steps to catching the unattainable- the 'bad' boy. Smiling just a bit creepily, Hermione hugged the thing to her chest.

'_Miracles **do** happen!'_

Leafing through the sacred rag, she bolted upright. All of a sudden everything had become clear.

She no longer wanted to prove Blaise Zabini was no one to be worked up about; she wanted to be worked up about him! In fact she very much wanted to…

'_Oh for the love of Merlin…I fancy the prat.'_

---


	5. Unholy Unions

Chapter 5:

Understanding and Unholy Unions

---

It really shouldn't have come as such a surprise that she fancied a boy. The only surprising part was just **who** that particular boy was. Blaise Zabini.

Really now, if one walked into a random establishment in Hogsmeade and asked the people there: 'Who is Blaise Zabini?' chances are they would reply: 'Hmmm…well. Er…you see. …um…sorry, I'm very busy. Come back next week'.

Now that is not in the least bit comforting, seeing as the boy Hermione was enamored of was virtually unknown- except to those in the Slytherin house. And seeing as Hermione was not on perfectly good terms with any of the students in that horrid-um…**special** house, she most likely would not be learning much about him.

Unless of course…she did a little bit of investigating, snooping, skulking, and so on.

Considering she had nearly memorized the mysterious boy's schedule for the entire week, Hermione believed now all she needed was an accomplice. Someone sneaky, someone conniving: she needed…a **Hufflepuff**!

And so began the friendship between one Hermione Granger and one Ernie Macmillan…

A union so despicable, so frightening that Hannah Abbot ran for cover under her bed. Of course Justin Finch-Fletchley tried to console her…but she couldn't be comforted, claiming that the Crumple-Horned Snorlacks now had the perfect chance to attack. And to think, just yesterday she had sat down beside Luna in Divination.

But that is beside the point. Ahem…Hermione cornered Ernie after their shared Herbology and pulled him toward a deserted green house looking quite determined.

Harry and Ron later could be heard saying that they were quite relieved she had gotten a boyfriend.

* * *

"Ernie, I need your help."

Eyes wide, he noted this moment for future generations of Macmillans. After all it wasn't every day a certified genius practically begged for help.

"What with?"

"Zabini."

"W-Why?"

Shaking now, Ernie noticed the crazed gleam in her eyes…would she hurt him? She was smart enough to hide the evidence, his body. He...he might be ditched in the Forbidden Forest, left for the thestrals to…to do horrible things to.

"I fancy him."

"Eh…"

Now Ernie was confused. Forgetting his depressing thoughts of thestrals he studied the figure in front of him intently. Bags under eyes, hair tangled in knots, ink stains on her robes…Yes. Ernie decided, yes, Hermione Granger was lovesick. Oh! What wonders he would accomplish…Once again it was love doctor Ernie to the rescue. Swoosh!

"Of course you do Hermione darling! Now come with Ernie and he will make everything all better!"

Smiling gallantly he led her toward the Hufflepuff common room, his head full of visions of dancing hair potions and beauty charms.

"Zabini won't be able to resist!"

---


	6. Ineffective Makeovers

Chapter 6:

Ineffective Makeovers and Frightened Ickle Firsties

---

"Ernie."

One Ernie Macmillan obliviously scurried around the Hufflepuff common room carrying vials and bottles containing lethal looking potions.

"Ernie!"

"Oh…yes?"

Hermione sighed: she would never get through to him.

"Nothing, Ernie."

Nodding like only a beauty specialist maniac can, Ernie got to work plucking, pruning, and preening whenever possible. Finally after what seemed like hours later, he stood back and admired his work.

"Perfect! I am such a genius!" Wiping a tear from his eye he gingerly picked up a mirror and lowered it to her level.

"Well…" He trailed off seeing her blank expression.

"Do you not like my work, Hermione?"

"Ernie," She deadpanned, "I look exactly the same."

"No! No, I-I…"

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead; this was taking far too long.

"Ernie forget it. I didn't want a makeover in the first place. I just want advice."

Sniffing loudly he nodded. Untying her from his 'work bench' he then preceded to lead her to his dormitory.

Hermione rolled her eyes, he was sooooo melodramatic.

* * *

Cough. "So…you want advice?"

A nod.

"About Zabini?"

Again, a nod.

"Well," He began and leaned forward conspiringly, "You should of course learn his likes, dislikes and such."

Lying upside down on her back situated on Zacharias Smith's bed, Hermione decided that this made sense.

"Your right- of course. But, Ernie, how do I without looking suspicious?"

"Get someone to find out…do you have any connections in Slytherin?"

Hermione shook her head and snorted in derision.

"Ravenclaw?"

"No, not for this."

"Hermione, Hufflepuffs aren't exactly welcome in Slytherin."

"I know…but, maybe-" A wicked grin erupted on Hermione's face as she found her solution.

"Ernie, have you ever heard of the Polyjuice potion?"

"Um, no. What does it do?"

In the common room, first years screamed and ran for cover as the sound of maniacal laughter floated down from the boy's dormitories.

---


	7. Zabini, Sneakiest Slytherin to Date

Chapter 7:

A Sneaky Zabini and an Imaginary Friend Named Ernie

---

Blaise Zabini exhaled slowly and leaned even further back into the tree trunk behind him. Finding that there just happened to be a stubby branch where he wanted to lean, he gave up and flopped onto the grass beside the bothersome tree.

"So bored…"

This said, Blaise got up deciding to walk around the grounds while spying on unsuspecting students. …It was just a hobby, really!

After being sufficiently sneaky, Blaise ducked behind an overgrown rosebush- no doubt the handiwork of the big oaf that taught Care of Magical Creatures.

"Oh suck it up Ernie, it doesn't taste **that **bad."

Blaise turned his head slightly at the sound of a barely restrained growl. Brow wrinkling, he tried to match the sound to a person. Standing up and stretching he faced the oncoming two.

"All that studying hasn't gone to your head, has it Granger? You seem to be talking to a non-existent person. Is this _Ernie_ your imaginary friend?" He smirked before turning to the other person. "And Goyle, where **have** you been?"

Hermione blinked twice in succession and looked at the figure beside her. Finally her eyes lit up as she understood the situation.

"No, I am perfectly sane, thank you very much," she voiced indignantly. "I was trying to explain Transfiguration to this oaf here, but sadly…" She sighed. "Even I can not work miracles."

The corners of Blaise's mouth quirked upwards and one eyebrow rose as he viewed Goyle.

'_Hmmm…confused and slightly cross eyed. Yes, that's Gregory. He'd better have a good explanation for this.'_

"Come on Goyle, Draco's been looking for you. Don't want to keep him waiting now do we? G'day Granger."

Hermione nervously waved at their now distant backs wondering whether Ernie would even last an hour in the presence of Slytherins.

---


	8. The Parlor of Doom

Chapter 8:

The Parlor of Doom, Bloody Shoes, and the Color Blue

---

Blaise smiled while leading Ernie down a dungeon corridor.

"Goyle, you've been acting odd lately, more so than usual. I mean, hanging around Granger? Surely you have standards man!"

Ernie gulped nervously- he knew this wasn't a good idea. Glancing hurriedly at Zabini and then at the room they had stopped beside, he nearly wet his pants.

Blaise laughed uproariously as he noticed Goyle staring in horror at the torture chamber- or as he affectionately dubbed it 'the parlor'.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Draco about your little girlfriend. Besides, even if he did somehow find out I'm sure he wouldn't mind…much."

Chuckling to himself, Blaise shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and strode down the hall to the Slytherin common room. Whispering "defaeco" to a portrait of a serpent coiled around a fruitful tree, he motioned absentmindedly for Ernie to follow. After slipping through the entry and into the common room he cleared his throat and called for Malfoy.

"Draco, you moping brat! I've found your lover-"

Ernie gasped and clutched his heart before cowering in a nearby corner.

"Eh, sorry mate. I must have given you a nasty shock. I'm kidding about the lover comment."

"S'alright," wheezed Ernie.

"Well **I **was quite disturbed myself, Blaise. Don't do it again."

"Of course, cap'n"

After sneering at the slightly taller boy, Draco sniffed indignantly and proceeded to turn on Goyle- or rather Ernie- next.

"And you, what's your excuse? The-boy-who-lived-to-be-a-pain-in-the-arse and the Weasel cornered me today….and I was missing a protector. And another thing-" Ernie blinked stupidly and tuned him out; who knew Malfoy was such a whiner.

"-and I, and I chipped a nail! And I got blood on my new shoes!" He wiggled a foot at Ernie. "I really like these shoes too. They were an early be-initiated-into-a-group-with-smelly-dark-robes present."

Deciding he wasn't winning any sympathy, Draco plopped on the couch and pouted.

"You don't respect me, Goyle."

Ernie choked on his own saliva and stumbled over his words.

"Um…sorry?"

Draco smiled gaily and latched onto Ernie.

"You do care!"

Blaise snorted in disgust and decided to interrupt their disturbing moment.

"Draco," he began. "I caught Goyle earlier with…"

Sniffing loudly, Draco batted his eyes wildly.

"I can take it Blaise. Go ahead; with whom? Another-" He sobbed loudly. "Another man?"

Ernie decided to visit his corner again as the water works were turned onto high.

"With…Granger!" Blaise finished with a flourish.

Draco stiffened and flung an emerald green pillow at Ernie.

"Damn you! We're through!"

Blaise exhaled happily as his blonde friend ran up the stairs.

"Don't you just love a happy ending, Goyle?"

Ernie nodded hysterically still a bit spooked by his encounter with a real, live psychopath.

The two boys settled on the couch and sat in an awkward silence. Ernie, deciding 16 years was long enough to live, coughed and scratched his head.

"So," he ventured. "What's your favorite color?"

'_Oh dear Lord, this is the end.'_

Blaise cocked his head at Ernie, who was currently scampering under the couch opposite, and uncrossed his legs.

"I haven't really thought about it. Blue, I suppose."

"Oh," Ernie blinked. "That's interesting." Bounding back onto the couch across from Blaise, he pulled out a notebook and scratched his chin.

"You got a quill?"

"Sure."

Now equipped with a quill, Ernie began rapidly firing questions at Blaise while looking at the clock frequently.

"Ideal girlfriend?"

12:59 p.m. – Only 28 minutes left.

"Allergic to cats?"

1:04 p.m. – 23 minutes.

"Favorite subject?"

1:09 p.m. – 18 minutes.

"Astrological sign?"

1:13 p.m. – 14 minutes.

"Ideal number of children?"

1:16 p.m. – 11 minutes.

"Muggles?"

1:21 p.m. – 6 minutes.

"Lovely chatting with you, Zab-er…Blaise. But, I need to…go eat. Yes, that's right. I'm hungry."

Ernie sprinted to the door not even pausing when Blaise spoke.

"Goyle, I'm sort of hungry too. Maybe I'll join-"

"Sorry! Starving, got to go!"

And with that, Ernie raced out of the Slytherin common room through the dungeons all the while chanting directions in his head.

'_Left, left, right, left, and right. Up the stairs- don't forget to jump the 13th step. Left, right, pass the dancing armor, and left again. '_

Finally he burst into the deserted Girl's bathroom Hermione had told him about and ducked into a stall already morphing back into himself.

Arms shrinking and hair growing, along with other various changes he leaned against the stall door and looked at the doodlings on the wall.

Waiting for the transformation to end, he read: "Veronica Myers is a-".

"Ernie!"

Recognizing the tones of everyone's favorite bookworm he shrugged out of the spare robes he'd procured and into his own while mumbling "Mmmm mmm mmmmm."

Not even bothering to clarify his mumbling, he stepped out of the stall and promptly checked his hair in the mirror.

"How did it go?"

"Alright."

"Ernie…"

Forgetting his cool, calm, exterior he sobbed and fell into her arms.

"It was horrible Hermione! They had sharp, pointy objects and I think Malfoy made a move on me!"

"Oh…"

Sniffing, he grabbed a conviently placed tissue box and dabbed his eyes delicately.

"But, you got the information, right?"

"Yup!" His demeanor changed abruptly. "His favorite color is blue!"


	9. Offtopic Questionaires

Chapter 9:

Molina Bannock, cat allergies, and Eric- No, Edmund- Eh, It Starts With an E.

---

"Blue," Hermione voiced. "Huh, I never would have thought that."

"Yes," he shuddered. "It really was traumatizing though. You owe me like 20,000 favors!"

"Uh huh." While shrugging off his comments, Hermione leafed through the notebook containing Blaise's likes and opinions, courtesy of Ernie Macmillan.

"Ideal girlfriend is Molina Bannock? What is this Ernie?" She gripped the pages with the statement in question, breathing heavily. Of course Zabini would want to date the supermodel gracing the cover of Wizard Daily- Witch Weekly's exact opposite and rival magazine.

"Eh? Oh, yeah. I think he was kidding about that one. Bloke wouldn't answer my questions straight."

Resigning herself to his ineptness, she settled more comfortably into her chair and continued to read the dialogue between Blaise and Ernie. Luckily when the latter asked for a quill, Blaise had absentmindedly handed him a Quick Quotes Quill (sold at a book store near you!), and so the whole encounter was documented for Hermione's eager eyes.

**

* * *

'Ideal girlfriend?'**

'Molina Bannock, most definitely. Now really, Goyle what's this all about?'

'Not sure what you're talking about- allergic to cats?'

'No. Wait. Why did I answer that?'

'No idea, maybe you have a split personality. Favorite subject?'

'Arithmancy. Are you feeling alright, Goyle? Maybe I should take you to the-'

'Feeling fine, thanks. Astrological sign?"

'Aries- are you sure? You're acting odd. A bit like that odd twit in Hufflepuff.'

"H-Ha, which odd twit? Um…ideal number of children?"

'2-3 maybe. Eric? No, Edmund. Eh, something with an E.'

'W-Well, that's interesting…muggles?'

'Hmmm, don't mind 'em. Depends I suppose on the person…'

* * *

"And…that's where you'll stop reading," stated Ernie nervously as he snatched the paper from Hermione.

"Why?"

"He starts rambling about random muggle women. Here, I'll read part: 'Ami Ecke, some French model is…'" Ernie swallowed loudly. "Well, I won't read any more."

"Anyway," he continued. "I did some extra research on your compatibility."

"I see," Hermione interjected, eying the crumpled newspaper in Ernie's vacated chair.

"Yes, anyway you're a Leo and he is an Aries." Ernie plopped down on his chair, further crumpling the newspaper, all the while looking smug.

"Right. That's a bit vague, Ernie."

"Ugh." Rolling his eyes, and then adopting the wow-she-is-stupid-isn't-she look, Ernie painstakingly pulled the newspaper from beneath him and thrust the horoscope section into her face.

"See, it says right here." A pause. "You don't see it? My goodness, give that here."

Frightened and cowering behind a pillow at his slight manic obsessiveness, Hermione surrendered the paper to him.

"Ahem, you are 'Generous and warmhearted, broadminded, faithful-'"

Hermione beamed with pride, slowly relinquishing the pillow to the sofa.

He continued: "-loving, bossy, interfering, and patronizing.' Wow, they've got you down pat, haven't they?" With a growl from the girl opposite him, he squeaked and decided to move onto Zabini.

"Um, here we are. Zabini is 'adventurous, energetic, courageous, confident, and quick-witted.' He is also 'foolhardy, risk taking, selfish, impatient, and quick-tempered.' Hey, that's a pretty good description of him too! How **do** they do it?"

"Get to the point, Ernie!"

"Alright, alright! It says later that Leo and Aries are compatible because of the fiery personalities or something like that."

"Oh, that's a nice image."

"Yeah," Ernie smiled oddly. "I thought so."

Clearing her throat and making a note to never again ask Ernie for help with boys, Hermione stood and extended a hand to Ernie.

"Well, thank you for all of your hard work Ernie. I really appreciate the time you've invested in stalking Blaise Zabini for me."

"Y-you mean," Ernie also stood quivering with tears forming in his eyes. "I'm fired?"

While shaking his limp hand Hermione tried to reason with him. "I simply don't have the funds to keep you on any longer. I'm terribly sorry."

"What? You weren't going to pay me…"

"Oh, right."

Silence enveloped the room in its awkward embrace.

"So…does this mean I'm not fired?"

A shrug and then: "I suppose."

---


	10. Books that Dwarf

Chapter 10:

Harry Potter Voodoo Dolls, Books that Dwarf, and Investigations of the Passwordy Kind

---

Blaise Zabini was confused. Considering that he was known for his cool, calm exterior being confused was not at the top of his priorities. In short, Blaise found himself a bit…ruffled by current events.

First, Goyle acted like a rabid Hufflepuff (Elmer- no, Eddie?), and to make things worse he then ran out complaining of hunger, off to infect the world once more with the virus of stupidity. And now- now Blaise was faced with a hysterical blonde boy clinging to his legs, when really all he wanted was to lie down and shut out the rest of civilization.

"What do you want Draco?" Blaise massaged his temples as a slew of whines and complaints flooded out of Draco's mouth.

A sniff and then: "Blaisey-poo, Pansy's being mean! She took my doll and won't give it back!"

"Right then." Blaise stalked over to Pansy massaging his temples. "Pansy, give Draco his voodoo doll back."

The girl scowled and chucked the doll stuck with needles that suspiciously resembled Harry Potter back at its owner.

"Now, I'm going to my room. No Draco! You can not follow me!" Blaise shuddered at the thought that the day wasn't over yet- why wouldn't it end already?

"Kill me now," he muttered to the door, as he turned its brass handle into his sanctuary-for the time being.

Falling backwards onto his four-poster with a plop, he contemplated the ceiling before rolling over and releasing a sigh of boredom.

"Nothing to doooooooo," he moaned loudly, earning a few outraged comments from a previously slumbering mirror on the wall opposite.

And so Blaise Zabini was forced to perform a gruesome task that was only attempted by those with the utmost endurance and skill- he did homework. Or, more precisely he ventured into the library and proceeded to stare vacantly at various books.

However his 'study session' was cut short by the arrival of a harried Gryffindor, Hermione Granger to be exact.

* * *

Hermione huffed as she allowed her books to fall to the table with a crash, glaring in the direction of Madame Pince, daring the librarian to disrupt her mood. Sitting down with a flourish, she flinched as Blaise caught her unawares.

"Granger, to what do I owe this…_pleasure_?" He drawled out, acting as if she always stormed into the room and sat next to him.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she was lost in his cerulean eyes, drowning in those limpid pools of sapphires, caught in his paralyzing gaze- and the moment ended…rather quickly.

"Well you see, first my mother met my father and then they were married, and wouldn't you know it, nine months and sixteen years later, here I am." Frowning at his location, she straightened her books. "You're at my table."

Blinking at her, he solemnly looked down at the table and back up at her.

"Silly me, I should have known that this particular table, an exact copy of the other twenty-some in the public library, was yours. How stupid of me to sit here." Blaise rolled his eyes at her and turned back to the book he was staring at.

"You're not moving…"

"Brilliant observation."

Resigning herself to company, Hermione pulled out a book entitled Common Latin Words.

Blaise glanced up as a book twice the size of his head, dwarfed the girl beside him.

"What do you need that for?"

Hermione sniffed at him indignantly, "Isn't it obvious? I'm looking up a word."

His gaze lingered a moment on her before resuming its observation of his own book.

Minutes passed and finally Hermione scribbled on her parchment and shut the aged book noisily.

"Done. Now I'll just return the book and be off."

Blaise waited until she had scurried off before reading her notes.

"'Defaeco,'" he read monotone. "'To cleanse, purify, purge.'"

A pause, and then the significance set in. "Bloody hell, she knows the password!"

---


	11. Murderer with a Foot Fetish, I Presume

Chapter 11:

Meetings, Conspiracies, and Severed Feet

---

Murmuring enveloped the Slytherin common room as Blaise stood in front of the fire place and cleared his throat for silence.

"I have called you all here to discuss an important matter…"

"Hurry it up Blaise; I have a date with Colin in fifteen minutes!"

"Er. That's very um- different." Blaise inwardly shuddered as the thought of Pansy and Colin Creevey snogging bounded to the front of his mind.

"Right then, down to business. I discovered that our common room's security has been breached!"

"By whom?" Draco glanced around rapidly.

"By…" Blaise paused for suspense. "By Hermione Granger!"

* * *

---Meanwhile in the Gryffindor common room…---

* * *

"Harry?" 

Harry lazily opened an eye and assessed the figure in front of him. Even from his position on the couch he could recognize the infamous hair of Hermione.

"Harry, can I talk to you…alone?"

Glancing at the only other occupants of the room, two first years playing chess, he cleared his throat reminiscent of Blaise. Squeaking, the two children ran up to their dormitories prepared to tell the story of when Harry Potter acknowledged them.

"Can I help you Hermione?"

"I hope. I am prepared to trade you the Slytherin password for the use of your cloak."

Rocketing up, he grinned at the girl opposite him. "Gee whiz, that'd be great! Wait…" Eyes narrowing, he leaned forward. "What do you need the cloak for?"

Smiling nervously, Hermione twiddled her thumbs. "Um…nothing?"

"Right, nothing."

Nodding furiously, she stood and started pacing the length of the room.

"Not even indefinite use of the cloak. Just once or twice. Really, it is quite a bargain for you. Think of it- wreaking insurmountable havoc on the Slytherins in exchange for one measly night without being invisible."

"Well, it would be nice…I'll admit that." Sighing he finished, "Alright, consider it a deal."

"Wonderful, I'll just run up and get the cloak- I need it tonight, you know."

"Wait! Hermione, I need the password!"

"Oh sorry, it's _defaeco_." In a flash she sprinted up the stairs and ran back down the next instant amid shouts of "I've been violated!" and "Don't look, don't look!"

"Thanks Harry!" And then, she was gone.

Harry smiled wickedly, plotting plots concerning the Slytherin house.

* * *

---However, in the Slytherin common room far, far away…. ---

* * *

"Right. So it's decided then. We change the password and check the wards." 

Pansy raised her hand while checking her watch.

"Yes Pansy?"

"Blaisey-poo, I don't mean to be rude, but Colin **is** waiting."

Collapsing onto his makeshift podium (a stack of books stuck together with Spell-O-Tape), Blaise massaged his temples exasperatedly.

"We still have to decide on a new password."

"Oh, oh!" Draco's hand shot into the air.

Blaise groaned and dragged himself back into a proper position. "Yes Draco?"

"I vote _'Les lapins duveteux résident ici'_. What do you think?"

Millicent Bullstrode's brow wrinkled, "Doesn't that mean 'the fluffy rabbits reside here'?"

Draco glanced at her shiftily, "Maybe…"

"Ugh, enough of this! Draco, please nothing involving rabbits. Anyone else have an idea- a good idea?"

A timid third year stood gazing at the floor, "How about _'imperiosus'_?"

Blaise smirked at Draco while applauding the contributor.

"Bravo. _'Imperiosus'_ it is."

* * *

A snort came from a shadowy corner as Hermione, under the cover of Harry's cloak, discovered their newest password. 'Honestly, do they really think they can keep anything from me?' Hermione smirked identically to Blaise and clutched the cloak tighter around her. 'Now to be sneaky…' 

She left her corner and proceeded to climb the stairs to what Ernie had told her was the boy's dormitory. Upon arrival, Hermione immediately spotted Malfoy's bed, identifying it by the hair products strewn across the surface. Passing two four-posters with crumbs upon them, she finally arrived at what she assumed could only be Blaise's. Clean except for a roll of parchment and a book entitled Potions for Experts, his bed was the neatest of the dark room.

A sinister grin appeared on her face as she dove under his bed searching for dirty laundry- figuratively, not literally, of course. Only unearthing school books and a leather pocket book, Hermione failed to notice the cloak had slipped off of her right foot. Unfortunately that was the foot that was left out in the open, and even more unfortunately Crabbe and Goyle chose that very instant to walk into the room.

Hermione inhaled sharply and let out a whispered "bloody hell". But by the time she realized her foot was exposed, they had already seen what seemed to be a severed foot right at the side of Blaise's bed.

Goyle, the smarter of the two by 6 I.Q. points, jumped back at the sight. Seeing as there was only one conclusion to a severed foot, he whirled on Crabbe and announced, "Vince, Blaise is a serial murderer with a foot fetish!"

Crabbe simply blinked and looked back at the disembodied foot on the ground.

Goyle, a bit frustrated at this point, tried again for a reaction. "He'll come after us next, he will! I have very nice feet, you know. Yours aren't bad either though…"

Crabbe stared at his companion and grimaced slightly, "I…have nice feet?"

"Yes, yes of course. But, Blaise is going to **kill** us! And then chop off our feet and then get off just watching them sit there…"

"Um," Crabbe scratched his head and shrugged. "I'm hungry, let's go get cake."

"Ooh, cake!"

And with that, both boys turned on their heels and went off to harass the house elves, Goyle still shaking from the encounter with the disembodied foot.

Meanwhile Hermione, currently under the bed, decided that boys, Slytherins more specifically, were sloppy and stupid pigs with short attention spans, excepting Zabini of course.

---


	12. The Horrors of a Mob Questioning

Chapter 12:

Mob Questionings and Realizations

---

Blaise massaged his temples as he wearily climbed the stairs to his dormitory. The abominations Dumbledore liked to call "first years" had mobbed him with questions for an hour. He snorted, the very thought of Hermione bursting into the Slytherin common room in her dressing robes was most certainly not revolting, no matter what the brats said.

"Wait a minute," he abruptly stopped on the 9th step. "Hermione? When the bloody hell did I start calling her Hermione?"

Shaking his head he argued that it was because he was tired. Grasping the railing tightly, he continued his trek up the stairs. Upon entering his dormitory, his eyes focused upon each of his dorm mates in turn- they all had surrendered to sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief that Draco wasn't awake to ogle him while he changed, Blaise hurriedly stripped off his uniform and pulled on his pajamas, a tasteful dark blue cotton ensemble that Draco said brought out his eyes.

Blaise dragged himself into his four-poster and stared up at the green canopy. Numerous thoughts created chaos in his mind as they vied for control.

'_Why does everything have to be green? I mean, I'm no Ravenclaw but, blue is bloody nice too.'_

'_I wonder how Hermione found out the password.'_

'_Bloody hell, I called her Hermione again!'_

'_Goyle snores…REALLY loudly.'_

'_I wonder what Hermione would look like in green? Or blue!'_

'_Damn! I did it again…Stop that!'_

'_She wore blue today…'_

'_ARGH! Stop that!'_

With a start Blaise shot up into a sitting position, clutching his head like a man under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse. Breathing heavily he fell back onto his pillow and muttered: "Bloody hell, I fancy the Golden Girl."

* * *

Hermione chuckled while flipping through the appointment book she found underneath Blaise's bed.

"May 19, 4:30- Meet Draco and Pansy at dungeon 16," she read off in an excited whisper in order to not wake up her roommates, who did not, to the best of her knowledge, appreciate being woken up at 3: 16 in the morning.

"Ah, life is sweet." Hermione smiled gaily and turned toward the wall while settling her head into a comfortable position on her pillow.

Minutes passed as Hermione tried in vain to sleep, finally realizing she had too much pent up energy to rest, she grabbed Harry's invisibility cloak ("I'll return it in the morning, really!") and stole out of the common room after slipping out of her dormitory.

After approximately twenty minutes of wandering aimlessly through the halls, Hermione found herself in the Astronomy Tower and sat down beside the entrance in order to gaze at the stars.

Cradling her head in a hand, Hermione let her thoughts run amok.

'_Beautiful night…"_

'_I really should be sleeping now.'_

'_Wonder if I'll get that book for my birthday."_

Hermione shook her thoughts away, sat up straight and took in her surroundings, _'Hmm…so this is where people come to…'_

Blushing, she finished her thought, _'snog.'_

And with that dozens upon dozens of thoughts were flung to the front of her mind from the dark recesses they had previously occupied. Safe to say, most of these thoughts concerned a certain Blaise Zabini.

'_I wonder what Blaise looks like with his shirt off.'_

'_Very good, most likely. Very good indeed.'_

Hermione stiffened as she felt hot color rush to her cheeks and make her want to take off the cloak over her.

'_No, that would be bad,'_ Hermione managed to squeeze in between propositions of what a fellow student looked like half-naked.

Gathering her wits about her, or at least what was left of them; Hermione rose and proceeded to walk back to the Gryffindor common room.

---


	13. Midnight Walks and Suspected ADD

Chapter 13:

Enchanted Walls, Midnight Rendezvous, and Tardy Visions

---

On her way back from her midnight wanderings, Hermione fidgeted with loose threads from Harry's cloak. Realizing that destroying one of his most prized possessions wasn't the best way to say 'thank you for lending me your priceless piece of clothing', she ceased her actions and leaned against a nearby wall.

However this wall was not just a wall. It was **the** wall. In fact, its stonework dated back to…a long time ago. The point being, that this wall is vital to our story. Why? Well, because it was one of Hogwarts' few enchanted walls.

Now the history of enchanted walls goes very far back, as noted above, but not much is known of their abilities. For instance, they had been known to suddenly vanish and show up in random corridors for unsuspecting people to collide with. They also can decide to move unexpectedly, causing sudden claustrophobia; but this Hogwarts wall was special. How, you ask? Well, it could sing.

"Oh, give me a home! Where the buffalo roam! And the deer and the antelope play! Where seldom is heard, a discouraging wo-"

"Shut up wall!"

The wall closed its stony mouth and would have glared at Hermione if 1) she were visible and if 2) the wall had eyes. But it just sat there like walls tend to do and pouted.

A moment later, Hermione felt as if she had been kicked. Standing up quickly, she turned on the wall shouting, "Fine, be like that! I'll just go mope somewhere else!"

Storming off in a rage, she failed to notice the invisibility cloak slowly slip off of her, until it had become tangled with her feet. Hermione stopped in her tracks, struggling for a brief moment with the material pooled around her legs. However a familiar voice caused her to pause in her escape attempts.

"Herm- Granger, now why are you out and about at this hour?"

Hermione finally succeeded in freeing her legs and glanced up at Blaise from her kneeling position on the stone floor.

Standing she spoke, "I could ask you the same thing."

Blaise did a double-take at the sight of an invisibility cloak in Hermione's hands, but shrugged it off, remembering she was friends with the famous Harry Potter.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same."

Hermione gestured to the cloak, "I wanted to go for a walk without Snape breathing down my neck."

Blaise shuddered inwardly at the mental image, and nodded.

"Do you want to," he paused. "Walk together? Help clear our minds maybe?"

She blushed, though in the darkness it wasn't visible, and brushed a stray hair behind her ear.

"Sure- where to?"

He shrugged, "Just around."

Side by side they walked down the hall, passing the enchanted wall in the middle of the chorus of 'Home on the Range'.

* * *

---In the Slytherin 6th Year boy's dormitory, a few moments before…---

Draco awoke with a start, the image of Blaise and Granger walking together burned into his mind. Grinning, he jumped out of bed, "I'm a seer!"

Crabbe and Goyle sat up and blinked in unison, after the blinks ended, one of them, Crabbe, dropped back off to sleep.

"What'd you say Draco? You're an ear?"

"No you big lump! I'm a seer!"

"Oh," Goyle performed his blinking routine again. "G'night then."

Draco bounded over to the mirror and examined himself. "And I don't look a bit as ugly as the hag that teaches Divination. Hmph," he sniffed. "That'll show Blaise! You **can** be devilishly handsome and still predict the future."

Once he had mulled over this thought for a moment, he sat down with a plop.

"Granger and Blaise? When will that happen?" Smiling to himself, he decided that he would just have to be the one to prevent this utter catastrophe. However, little did he know that he could not predict the far future…he could only see as far as five minutes into the future as evidenced by his earlier dreams of stubbing his toe.

"Ouch!" Draco hugged his leg to his chest after his big toe accidentally collided with a wall.

---


	14. In Which Draco Speaks, At Length

Chapter 14:

In Which Blaise and Draco Have a Talk

---

Draco sighed and continued to pace around the Slytherin common room. It was 4:16 in the morning, far past curfew and Blaise was out probably gallivanting around with that…_Gryffindor_.

After what seemed like hours, the portrait swung open and a certain raven-haired boy attempted to inconspicuously climb in. Twas not to be…

"Blaise! Where have you been? Do you have **any** idea what time it is? Or how worried I was? What- just what would have happened if you were cornered by a bunch of rabid Hufflepuffs or something? What then? Huh, what-"

Blaise silenced the hysterical boy with a muttered "silencio" and went to sit in a nearby chair.

"I know you're upset Draco, but really, I'm fine. See," he extended his arm toward the blonde. "No bites from rabies-infested Hufflepuffs. Good night." And with that, he rose while stifling a yawn and trudged toward the stairs.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." Blaise pivoted and held up his wand again. "Finite Incantatem."

Draco smirked and eyed Blaise's disheveled state, "It's not the Hufflepuffs I'm worried about. Gryffindors can be," he paused for suspense, "feisty."

Freezing in his tracks Blaise decided that Draco was a nosy git. After this vital decision, he turned and felt one eyebrow rise on its own accord.

"Interesting word choice, though I don't know quite what you mean."

Draco grinned, the smile resembling a leer. "Of course you do. Granger…"

He led the other boy to a sofa, "I've been hearing some rather disturbing things about the two of you. Naturally I didn't believe, but certain circumstances," he drawled remembering his vision, "convinced me otherwise."

Blaise smiled coldly at Draco, "Of what am I being accused?"

"Fraternizing with the enemy, a mudblood nonetheless!"

Blaise stiffened and clenched his fists. Knuckles turning white from the pressure he stood and glared at Draco.

"What I do with my time is none of your concern; I refuse to follow your rules of social hierarchy any longer."

He strode quickly up the stairs, pausing mid-step half way up at Draco's voice.

"Alright, we still on for chess tomorrow at two?"

Blaise softened at the quasi-innocent voice and nodded, "I'm black."

* * *

Up in his dormitory, Blaise pondered his life while listening to the deep-breathing and/or snoring of his fellow classmates.

'_Hmmm…tonight was interesting to say the least. Why in the bloody hell did I-'_

But his thoughts were cut off as he dropped off into a deep slumber, one that even a Dreamless Sleep potion could not rival.

---

**ATTENTION READERS: **Info on my review schedule or previews for new chapters may be found on my profile page. So…if you're getting frustrated at a lack of update, chances are there is a long-winded explanation for the silence on my bio. Thank you for your attention; you may now press the little bluish-purple button marked review. Please…


	15. How to Go Mad or Claustrophobia: A Novel

Chapter 15:

Revenge Seeking Walls and Claustrophobia

---

The world, Hermione decided, was out to get her- and not to take her out for a pleasant picnic and a frolic in the daisies. No, the world wanted to shove said daises in her mouth and force her to eat them along with a few hundred pounds of dirt.

Needless to say, Hermione was a wee bit upset. Her evening had started just lovely, what with Blaise taking her on a walk and all. But then, when she had begun to stop suspecting an evil Slytherin plot to take over her mind in order to contact aliens, the night went from splendid to plain awful.

---

_Flashback _

* * *

Hermione fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve and glanced up at Blaise for the 14th time in ten minutes.

'_Now really,'_ she fumed inwardly, _'he asks me on a walk and then stares out a window for ten minutes. How completely and utterly rude. Honestly…'_

Hermione sighed and leaned against the wall next to the obviously more-fascinating-than-her window.

"About that walk…" She trailed off, seeing his attention was **still **nowhere near her or the possibility of exercise in the near future.

"Right then," she turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. Or at least she meant to. Unfortunately her progress was halted by a certain wall…a certain enchanted wall.

Yes, the singing wall had returned for…soda! But after the house-elves wouldn't give him any (no mouth, you know), he settled for…**revenge!** Revenge on the human with a bush on her head for interrupting his show of extreme talent.

Stupid humans…thought they ruled the world, but no, they didn't own him- which he proved by encasing the bush-headed human in a corner. He, of course, was forced to bend a bit to keep her in, but she needed to be taught a lesson. A very long and uncomfortable lesson.

* * *

Hermione stumbled backward as a wall appeared in front of her. Frowning, she turned to walk around it and was stopped by yet another wall. Now practically foaming from the mouth with anger, she whipped out her wand and threw a spell at the obstacle. Sadly, enchanted walls, as anyone studying enchanted walls is aware of, are impervious to magic.

Rebuffed, Hermione tossed aside her wand and threw herself at the stone.

Beating her fists on the surface, she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Zabini, you idiot! Get me out of this bloody box!"

* * *

Blaise looked up startled at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts. Where was he again?

In a whirl he suddenly remembered why he was in a random hallway- he was on a walk…with Hermione.

Blaise glanced around the deserted corridor wildly; she was here, wasn't she? Not finding the girl in question, he shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered aimlessly down the hall before crashing rather clumsily into an oddly placed wall.

"There's never been a wall there before…" He pulled out his wand and poked at the stone warily.

More muffled shouts came from inside the stone cage. Blaise scrunched up his face trying to understand why someone would ask for a purple fish.

All of a sudden he was struck with a thought out-of-the-blue. What if that someone was Hermione?

His jaw dropped as the possibility became reality when intelligible yells manifested themselves.

"Zabini, I am going to…" The voice trailed off and then could be heard again with sobs mixed in. "Why is this happening to me? Stupid wall!"

There was a loud thud as Hermione kicked the wall to no avail.

"Hermione?" He tapped the wall hesitantly. "Are you in there?"

When no response came, he repeated his question with increased volume.

"Of course I'm in here! For the love of Merlin get me out!"

Blaise raised his wand and tried to perform the same exact spell Hermione had earlier attempted.

"It's no use," he muttered to himself and proceeded to walk around the wall.

Tapping his foot to the chorus of 'Danny Boy', Blaise scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Blaise paused in his thoughts and looked up at the wall. "Excuse me, I'm trying to think. Do you mind not singing for a moment, Hermione?"

The wall recoiled in horror at the accusation of being that human-bush thing and fled down the corridor to wash out its non-existent ears.

Blaise smiled down at Hermione, who was currently rocking back and forth on the ground muttering something about Herbology, and offered her a hand.

Hermione looked up at the proffered hand with glazed eyes and grabbed it as if it were a life-line.

"Home, Zabini. Take me home. Now."

Blaise frowned at her death-grip of his hand, "Do you mean your common room?"

At her nod, he spoke again. "I don't think I know where that is-"

Hermione glared at him and he stuttered fearfully. "W-well, there are only so many places it can be…"

---


	16. Violence and Hubbub

Chapter 16:

Victim Pillows and Hubbub Causing Broads

---

Hermione frowned at her canopy- she did **not** like small, dark, enclosed spaces.

'_Stupid wall. Stupid Zabini. Stupid…'_ Hermione's frown deepened as she ran out of things to be angry at.

Sniffing, she attempted to stifle her anger by stuffing her rather limp pillow onto her face. Realizing that a lack of air was a very **bad** thing, she removed the pillow and threw it across the room, satisfied when she heard the muffled sound of goose-feathers meeting stone.

"Stupid pillow," she huffed as an afterthought.

Hermione sighed and decided to never again to go on a walk with a Slytherin boy- or any boy- after angering an enchanted wall. Though it hadn't sounded quite so complicated in her head…

After coming to the conclusion that trying to sleep was an utter waste of time, Hermione drew her bed curtains closed and proceeded to stare absently at the crease where the two scarlet fabrics met, while pondering just where the night had begun to…die a painful, gruesome death.

Perhaps, she pondered, it was when Zabini had asked her to go on a walk in the first place. After all, if it wasn't for him she would have been perfectly fine by herself with no revenge-seeking walls attempting to smother her.

With a sigh she relented: '_It wasn't his fault. At least… not entirely,' _she paused in her thoughts recalling how Blaise had spent an hour and a half trying to figure out where the Gryffindor common was.

Hermione's brow crinkled; maybe it wasn't such a great idea to leave him stranded in the hallway. But, she reasoned, it would have been idiotic to reveal the common room's location.

'_And he was a bit annoying. Yes,'_ she decided, _'I was perfectly justified in leaving him.' _With the satisfied nod of one who has no conscience to speak of, Hermione dropped off to sleep, not in the least bit worried about the lone Slytherin wandering about school aimlessly.

* * *

Blaise shuddered and glanced behind his shoulder; he could have sworn someone was following him. Shrugging it off as a hallucination (he was very tired, after all), Blaise continued his trek down the corridor.

When he had first noticed that he was alone, his reaction was outrage. How dare she leave him after he saved her from the evil wall! In Blaise's humble opinion, she should have kissed his boots and groveled at his feet.

He paused in mid-step as the image of Hermione in a princess costume thanking him, the handsome knight, for saving her from the evil wall, which resembled a gigantic black dragon, popped into his thoughts.

With a glazed look he muttered, "All in a day's work, madam. For I am your-"

"Ooooh, a wee student out of bed! Me thinks Filchie should know…"

Blaise flinched at the recognizable sing-song voice of Peeves.

Turning around to face the poltergeist he tapped his feet nervously.

"Ah Peeves. Simply splendid to see you on this fine night-erm, "he paused after glimpsing the sun-streaked sky through a nearby window. " Right. Morning, I mean."

The small, floating man stroked his goatee and smirked in the general direction of the Slytherin.

"STUDENT OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Blaise cringed while turning and running as fast as he could. Just before turning the corner he looked over his shoulder to see the poltergeist already hassling the winded caretaker.

"So that's where I am. Thanks Peeves," he whispered under his breath while correcting his direction and heading back to the Slytherin common room.

Imagine…all that hubbub because of a broad- and a Gryffindor even! Blaise stumbled past a suit of armor and inwardly cursed his dangerous taste in women.

---


	17. Disturbing Dreams

Chapter 17:

Photographs and Disturbing Dreams

---

"Do I even dare asking whom you were with at this hour?"

Blaise flinched at the sudden intrusion on his attempts to enter the Slytherin common room unnoticed.

"No?" He almost grimaced at how pathetically weak he sounded.

Draco sighed and continued to file his nails with an air of experience and skill.

"Granger, I'll bet. Really Blaise," he clucked sympathetically. "What am I going to do with you?"

The raven-haired boy shrugged and strode across the room to the staircase.

"What I do is my concern. Now it's," he glanced at his watch, "5:53, so good night-erm morning, Draco."

The other boy simply smirked, picked up a bottle of acid green nail polish from the table and proceeded to coat his nails with it.

Silence, and then: "DRACO! What the bloody hell did you do to my bed?"

* * *

Hermione rolled over and furrowed her brow as disturbing images invaded her resting mind.

"_But mummy, I don't want to marry Severus Snape."_

_A wizened old woman stepped over to Hermione and pinched her check affectionately._

"_Ye be ready for marriage little one. He be a good-no," she paused and then corrected herself, "wealthy man."_

_Then the hunched figure limped over to what Hermione assumed was the closet, and picked out a frilly pink monstrosity for dressing purposes. _

"_Um-"_

_The old woman chuckled and laid the horrible dress on the bed beside the prone girl._

"_This be me first party dress. Wear it well young one."_

_Hermione cringed as she held up the dress by one oversized limp bow._

"_Alright…I suppose I could." And then with a flash she grinned and realized that this dress was what she needed to repulse Snape from her._

"_I would love to wear this," she stated with a sunny grin._

_The old woman's wrinkles creased her forehead as she also smiled and made her way out of the room._

"_I knew ye would love it. With this on, you'll be married by the New Year!"_

_Hermione's brow crinkled in confusion, "Which is…"_

_A bit cross, the woman huffed, "1362 of course. Not a very bright child are you…"_

Hermione shot up in bed rapidly, "I don't want to marry Snape!"

Parvarti threw a shoe at the excited girl and muttered into her pillow, "I don't either. Go to bed, Hermione!"

* * *

Blaise massaged his temples and repeated himself very slowly.

"Why are there dozens of bloody pictures on my bed, Draco?"

Draco fingered one such picture thoughtfully, "I just wanted to open up your eyes to the other fantastic girls here, before you settle down with a- a _Gryffindor_."

He picked up a picture at random, "Take her for example- Padma Patil. Lovely bird, isn't she?" At Blaise's blank look, he continued.

"Pure-blooded Ravenclaw, she has a sister in Gryffindor I think, but that can be ignored. Well, what do you think?"

"I think you need help. A lot of help."

With a wave of his wand the snap-shots transferred from his four-poster to Draco's, and Blaise got under his covers moodily.

"You date them if they're so bloody perfect." And with that, he snapped his curtain shut, and dropped off to sleep.

Draco, now blowing testily on his fingernails, sighed and flopped onto his own bed, a slew of photographs dropping to the floor unnoticed with his action.

He closed his bed-curtains swiftly after another glance at Blaise's bed, and muttered a quick "silencio". Pulling out what appeared to be a muggle walkie-talkie, he pouted pathetically.

"Serpent to home base- Flower, do you read me?"

The confused voice of Pansy answered him, "Do I what you? You're not a book Draco…"

Draco slapped a hand to his forehead and chided himself for not expecting that.

A struggle could be heard on the other line as Draco performed a temple massage reminiscent of his ruffled friend in the bed across from him.

"Draco," came a slightly deeper voice, "it's Millie. What happened?"

"He wasn't exactly thrilled at the photos…"

---


	18. Encounters with Violent Tendencies

Chapter 18:

Encounters of the Threatening Sort

---

"What," came a shriek from the black device, "I handpicked those girls! I-I…" The voice of Pansy broke off into tears and Millicent could be heard patting her back sympathetically.

"So what do we do now Draco?" The sound of patting had been drowned out by poorly muffled sobs.

"We go to the source of his insanity, of course. H-"

"Harry Potter! Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

Draco proceeded to hit his head on the wall as Pansy spouted off theories of Blaise and Harry's eternal love.

"No. Hermione is the source. Just," he sighed exasperatedly. "Just keep her busy after Potions. Ask for help or something…"

Pansy gasped and clutched a hand to her heart. "Draco! I most certainly do not need help in Potions-"

"Yes, yes. You've told us- private 'tutoring' and all. Pretend you need help, Pansy. Can you do that for me?"

Pansy sighed dreamily, "Of course, sugar-"

"Right," Millie pulled the device away from Pansy, "I'll watch her."

"Thanks Mill."

* * *

Hermione stared flabbergasted at the figure in front of her.

"Pansy…"

The blonde girl struggled to hide a scowl and screwed up her face in what she thought was a helpless expression.

"Hermione, I really need help with the Fallax potion. I-I don't," she hesitated and then lunged at Hermione doing her best to sob, "I'm so stupid!"

"Um, there, there, Pansy. I'm sure it not all that bad. "

Hermione awkwardly patted the slightly shorter girls back and searched in vain for Harry and Ron.

Not seeing anyone but Draco Malfoy and Millicent Bullstrode, she glared angrily at the intruders and gestured toward the prostrate girl.

"Do you **mind?**"

Draco smirked and stepped closer to her, "Yes, I do mind." Prodding Pansy with his foot he continued, "Pansy, you can stop now."

The blonde girl sniffed indignantly and disentangled herself from Hermione's arms, "Finally…"

Draco rolled his eyes and swept wayward hairs from his delicate brow.

"Granger, as you can see, we've come to talk…to _you_."

Hermione raised one eyebrow and tapped her foot impatiently, "Obviously."

Ignoring her comment, Draco continued, "You've taken an interest in Blaise. Don't."

Nodding resolutely he turned and walked away, but Millie, feeling their meeting lacked something, finished for him, "Or else."

Pansy watched as Millie's back also disappeared from the room, and then whipped her head toward Hermione again.

"Did you really think a Slytherin could like a Gryffindor that way? How, ", she paused, blinking wildly, "…not smart of you."

Hermione smirked and breezed past her, "Yes, how not smart of **me**…"

Fuming, Pansy pulled Hermione back and whirled her around, "What do you mean by that mudblood?"

The brunette pried Pansy's hands off of her jumper and gazed at the shorter girl with mock pity.

"Darling," she clucked patronizingly, making Pansy grind her teeth irritably. "I haven't listened to you for six years now, why in the love of Merlin would I start now?"

And with a saucy wink quite unlike herself, Hermione said a quick "ta ta" to Pansy and strode out of the room leaving Pansy stunned in the empty classroom.

It was only later that Hermione realized she had blurt out that she was interested in Blaise "that way" to one of her bitter enemies... 'whoops' was the word that came to mind.

---


	19. Oh Joy, Drunkards and Homework

Right, quick Author's Note. This story has officially branched off from the canon, due to certain character and event differences. So, disregard anything from the plot of the newest book, and enjoy!

Chapter 19:

Study Sessions and Drunken Men

---

Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic.

Blaise paced back and forth in the room wildly, causing his mirror to call out suggestions of various medicines to calm him down, or at least tranquilize him.

Why, you may ask, was Blaise put into such a state of…frenzy?

Because, word on the grapevine was that Terry Boot had recently expressed the desire to have a study session with Hermione. And to a Ravenclaw a "study session" meant serious snogging while discussing changing inter-species policy in the Wizarding world.

Needless to say, that was something Blaise did **not **want to happen.

'_Really,'_ Blaise reasoned, pausing in his insanity, _'It's not as if he's better looking than me.'_

Turning to his mirror, he closely examined his face.

"Honey, you are the most attractive thing I've ever seen…except maybe for that little blonde boy that lives here. But really when it comes right down to it, I like my men to be men, you know? Not that I wouldn't-"

Blaise shuddered and stepped away from the blabbering glass. Nearly sprinting out the door and then out of the Common Room, he failed to notice the figure in front of him looking quite lost. This, of course, resulted in him crashing rather unceremoniously into said figure.

Blaise winced at the obvious thump of a body hitting the stone floor. Lifting himself painstakingly off of the prone form of an unknown student, he brushed the settling dust off of his robes. On finding that he wasn't worse for the wear, he offered a hand to his victim.

"Sorry about that mate, I was in a rush. Normally I wouldn't bowl over people like that. Especially not you, Ph- erm…Liam? No, that's not right. Um…" He squinted at the other boy as if that would bring into focus a name sewn on the other's collar.

* * *

This was just his luck. No, really. Innocently walking down the corridor, trying to find the bloody way out of the blasted dungeons, and some prick knocks him over. Now, how is that fair?

And now, Colin fumed, the git couldn't even remember his name!

Honestly, how rude.

Colin shook his head wearily, today just wasn't his day.

"Colin," he interjected, "My name's Colin. Colin Creevey?" At seeing the blank look on Blaise's face he continued, "Gryffindor 5th Year? Photographer-"

* * *

"Oh," Blaise interrupted, **quite** rudely in Colin's opinion. "You're the bloke that stalks Potter-"

"Stalk_ed_," Colin stressed loudly, "I am no longer in the business of photographing Mr. Potter, thank you very much."

He huffed extravagantly; some people these days…

Blaise nodded and glanced at his watch while semi-listening to Colin ramble on about the injustice heaped upon noble photogra-whatevers.

'_9:15…Wonder if he's still awake at this hour. Hmm…oh well,'_ he grinned manically, _'I'll just have to wake Sleeping Beauty up…'_

Eyes focusing, Blaise snapped out of his reverie and cleared his throat to get Colin's attention.

"Sorry mate, I've got places to be- hence me running into you in my haste." He paused for breath, "I really do have to dash now."

"Where to?"

Blaise stiffened and then relented with a shrug.

"Ravenclaw Common room."

Colin raised one eyebrow suspiciously.

'_Why on Earth would Zabini go there at,' _he paused and snuck a peek at his watch, _'9:17 at night?'_

"Why," Colin asked, "Why there?"

"Business." and "Terry Boot" were the only words that escaped Blaise's mouth before he sprinted off in a random direction hoping it led the way to that git Boot.

Colin gazed after him slack-jawed.

Who knew, he mused, that Blaise Zabini and Terry Boot were an item?

'_Hmm,'_ he thought gaily, '_I'll go chat up Hermione, she might find this interesting…'_

* * *

Hermione fell backwards onto her bed, sending Crookshanks spitting from the room.

"You're sure then."

Colin paused from his investigation of the girl's dormitory and nodded before getting up and rummaging through Parvarti's trunk.

"So," she muttered, "Blaise Zabini is in passionate gay love with Terry Boot. I never would have guessed…"

Colin looked back at her guiltily as he shoved a piece of lingerie behind his back, "I know, it's shocking, isn't it? A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw…together."

The bushy-haired girl hauled herself up and shrugged, "Bl-Zabini never struck me as the type to-"she trailed off glaring at the silky pink material poking out from behind the younger boy's back.

"Colin…" she warned with a growl.

Sighing, he replaced the item in Parvarti's trunk, "Just a souvenir, really…"

"Right," she grumbled while pointing at the door. "Lovely visit, thanks for the gossip."

He smiled, pulled out his trusty camera and snapped a few photos of the room.

"Proof for the guys, you know?"

She rolled her eyes and proceeded to force him out of the room and down the staircase, "No Colin, I do **not** know."

* * *

Glancing around wildly, Blaise let out a groan as he realized that he was completely and utterly lost.

It shouldn't be so hard to find the Ravenclaw Common Room, Blaise decided while sinking wearily to the stone floor. Really, by all rights it should be next to the library seeing as how Ravenclaw's liked books so much. But no, nothing was **ever** easy for him.

He snorted at the mere thought.

Blaise directed his gaze upward and whispered obscenities at the ceiling. Noting a moment later that doing so did not improve his current situation, he proceeded to slam his head into the wall he was leaning against repeatedly.

"What in the blazes are you doing, Zabini?"

Blaise looked up startled at a baffled Professor Flitwick and slowly stopped abusing his head.

Standing he answered, "I don't quite know, sir."

The short man paused in his fidgeting, he never was one for public speaking or speaking in general to Slytherins, and eyed the boy curiously.

"Well then, off with you-"

"Professor," Blaise interjected smoothly, "I meant I don't know where I'm going. I'm looking for Terry Boot, you see. We were supposed to study Arithmancy together and he never showed…"

"Oh," Flitwick hesitated and then with an oh-sod-it-all expression bustled down the corridor.

"I can show you-granted I'm changing the password after you leave, hear me?"

"Yes sir." Blaise scrambled to his feet and hurried after the Professor.

Professor Flitwick slowed to a walking pace and pointed at a portrait of an extremely drunk man serenading a wall.

"Here's our stop. _Lonauld's Brandy._"

The man in the portrait huffed indignantly and turned to face Flitwick, "Do you **mind**, I happen to be busy at the moment."

"Sorry." Snapped Flitwick in a clipped tone, clearly still upset at Blaise's intrusion into his schedule.

Blaise hoisted himself into the Common Room and threw a half-hearted thank you at the already hurrying off Professor.

"I'm changing the password," was Flitwick's answer, shouted from 50 feet down the corridor.

---


	20. Buckets that Clang

Chapter 20:

Buckets that Clang and Dreams that Frighten

---

Blaise smiled and sighed at the prone form before him, entwined with bed sheets and snoring softly. Mockingly he thought of how the unfortunate being resembled an angel, lying there so peacefully…

The moment ending, Blaise's smile twisted into a wicked grin.

"Oh Terry dear," he sang into said boy's ear, "wakey wakey darling."

The now identified boy rolled over in his slumber while smacking his lips and muttering nonsense about Hermione and inter-species relations with the Ministry.

Eyes narrowing, Blaise resorted to less polite means in order to awaken a certain Ravenclaw.

Terry sat bolt upright sputtering as water dripped off of his now soaked figure. In the meantime, Blaise threw a bucket out of sight with the muttered outrages of Anthony Goldstein following its decided clang against his head.

* * *

Terry dreaded the moment in which he would have to acknowledge the presence of his would-be attacker, he hoped against hope that it was not Murrieta Edgecombe come to once again bemoan the condition of her "perfect" face and accuse **his** Hermione of all kinds of ridiculous things.

Losing concentration at the mere thought of his bushy-haired goddess he began to salivate and completely forgot the presence of any others…including a fuming Slytherin by his bedside.

* * *

Blaise sighed and tapped his foot impatiently on the plushy carpeted floor. Making a note that the Ravenclaw dormitories were **far** nicer than Slytherins, he looked at his watch wearily; it had been a long night.

Deciding he had endured enough when Terry attempted to snog his pillow on which written in precise block lettering was "Hermione" upon muggle duck tape, Blaise yanked the pillow from Terry and proceeded to hit him over the head with it…multiple times.

Making another note that clubbing a person over the head with a fluffy object did absolutely nothing to harm them, Blaise released the pillow and yanked Terry up off of his bed by his collared nightshirt.

"Boot," he muttered hatefully while glaring at the frightened boy, "We've got some business to settle."

Terry blinked lazily and attempted to identify the being in front of him.

'_Slytherin,' _he observed, giving the boy's uniform an once-over. _'My age, not Malfoy…'_

He paused, finding that the stranger's name was far beyond his range of thought.

"Who are you again?"

Blaise sighed and dropped Terry back on his bed, the white sheets making a puff around him.

"Blaise. Blaise Zabini."

Terry blinked and pondered the name.

"Blaise Zabini. Nope, I don't know you. Why are you here?"

"To speak to you about H-Granger."

"Oh," Terry managed to hold back his drool and lovesick sighs, "Why?"

"You've been exuding a certain amount of unhealthy interest in Miss Granger, Boot. Very unhealthy," he paused for dramatics, "for you that is."

Terry clutched the sheets to his body and quivered at the words, "H-how's that?"

Blaise's grin grew menacing as he slowly neared Terry, stopping only when he could whisper in his ear.

"Things happen, Boot. _Accidents_ happen, if you know what I mean…"

And with that he left, a certain flounce in his step Terry would have noted if his attention hadn't been stolen by the goose bumps on his arms and his rather wet bed.

* * *

_Sitting primly on the loveseat Terry beckoned her to, Hermione fidgeted with her teacup and saucer nervously. _

_A creak was heard as the parlor door opened slowly, and suddenly Hermione couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't listen to the ridiculous conversation Terry was attempting to have with her. All she could do was stare…_

_Blaise gave a boyish grin at the loud creak and chuckled, "I'll have to fix that now won't I dear?"_

_Hermione's heart thumped in her chest as Blaise neared the couple on the couch. Holding out his arms, his gaze settled on his lover._

"_Darling, I missed you so."_

_Feeling faint, Hermione readied herself for his embrace…_

"_I missed you too love."_

_Terry flung himself into Blaise's arms, crying hysterically as Blaise tried to calm him._

_Hermione stared wide-eyed as the two men embraced and fell to the floor in a dead-faint when Terry's stomach grew and he announced himself pregnant._

_Looking with minimal interest at the girl on the floor, Blaise shifted Terry slightly, "Darling, I didn't know we had company."_

* * *

Hermione screamed, the horror of that last image refusing to leave her. Still crying hysterically her roommates tried to calm her.

"Hermione, what's the matter. Is it the Snape dream again?"

"N-no," she stuttered, "It was Terry Boot-"

"Oh! That gorgeous Ravenclaw? I could just-"

"And Blaise Zabini-"

"Mmmm…" Lavender's eyelids fluttered as she clutched her hands to her heart.

"T-together and pregnant," she finished and then proceeded to wail and curl into a vulnerable position.

"Oh no," Parvarti remarked while patting Hermione on the back, "What a loss, eh Lavender?"

Lavender just nodded and then fell over wailing in sync with Hermione.

---


	21. Tea, If You Please

Chapter 21:

Prodding Bananas and Offers of Tea

---

Blaise smirked on his way out of the Slytherin Common room; he was feeling extremely well rested, his sleep having been filled with lovely dreams of stomping on Terry Boot's lovely-better-than-his carpet while randomly stopping to snog Hermione, who was occupied at the time simultaneously knitting him a sweater and laughing at Boot's misfortune.

He adjusted his jumper and, for lack of better words, strutted down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione sniffed loudly and painstakingly searched for evidence of either of her roommates in their beds. At last spotting a glimpse of dark hair strewn across Parvarti's pillow she groaned loudly.

"Parvarti," she wailed in a slightly nasal voice, "I-I need you to-"

"**What **is it **now**, Hermione? What? Shall I fluff your pillows, wash your feet, kill your Snape?" The girl paused breathing heavily from her upright position on her bed. Remembering the Snape dream, Parvarti muttered a hasty apology, and resigned her show of anger to glaring at the other bedridden girl.

"I just want a glass of water," Hermione paused and then added a hesitant "please" as if not sure whether the situation called for manners.

Parvarti sighed and conjured a glass, handing it to her in the process, "Now really, I know the dream was bad, but you are most certainly not dying. Out of bed with you then!"

She yanked Hermione from beneath her covers and over to the closet they shared, throwing pieces of clothing at her and finally pushing her into the bathroom and locking the door from the outside.

Hermione blinked and looked down at the pile of…something in her hands. Apart, the things could be considered clothing, but together? Together they were…

"Hideous," she remarked and proceeded to beat on the door, vowing to rejoin the world.

* * *

Blaise frowned and stared blankly at a portrait of a bowl of fruit. His stomach rumbled loudly and he looked down at it sympathetically, "I know, I know."

After prodding the banana to no avail he leaned against the wall wearily. How in the name of Merlin did he get lost on the way to the Great Hall?

'_I suppose it was the strut that threw me off,' _he decided while sinking to the floor and attempting to shrink into himself. Failing at that also, he scooted into the shadows in order to not be seen in his rather embarrassing situation, and to figure out how in the hell he could get back to familiar territory.

Hearing footsteps, Blaise cursed softly and attempted to shrink even more into the shadows.

A figure walked briskly down the hall, every so often throwing worried glances over their shoulder, and Blaise's eyes widened as the tell-tale hair of one Hermione Granger became recognizable.

* * *

Hermione shuffled down the corridor cursing and checking that Parvarti wasn't following her to ensure that she made good on her promise.

'_After all,'_ she mused anxiously, _'I said I'd rejoin the world, but I never said I'd go to the Great Hall for breakfast.'_

Reaching the end of the hall and coincidentally the portrait of fruit, she paused and threw another glance over her shoulder. Not seeing a vengeful Parvarti, she released a relieved sigh and reached a finger toward the painting. It may have been her imagination, but the pear looked as if it already knew its impending doom, coming in the form of being tickled.

Chuckling lightly at Hermione's antics, Blaise straightened and stepped out of the shadows. Laughing even louder at the sight of her face when she saw him appear, he placed a hand on the wall to keep himself steady.

He settled down a moment later, but at Hermione's indignant "Are you **quite** finished", one last snicker escaped his mouth.

"Sorry," he managed, still shaking slightly, "You just- It was," he sighed contently, "Classic."

He stepped over to where Hermione still had her hand outstretched to the painting, "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked conversationally.

Hermione blushed at the attention, and then chided herself, remembering that the love of his life currently resided in Ravenclaw and for all that she was aware of…was male. She could hardly live up to that standard, really.

"I'm getting food," she replied as unemotionally as possible, meaning of course that because it was to Blaise she was speaking, the words came out breathy and unsure.

At his skeptical nod she continued, "Yes, that is was people tend to do at this time of day, it being breakfast and all."

He eyed the portrait warily, "Ah silly me, I had forgotten the nutritional value of artwork for a moment…"

Hermione glowered at him and tickled the pear testily, "I'm going to the kitchens."

His eyebrows rose as he followed her through the portrait, "Are you now, well then maybe I'll accept that you aren't insane."

A sarcastic "Why, thank you ever so much" was his only answer, as afterwards she was occupied ordering food from the house elves.

"Would you like anything, Zabini?" At his reply she nodded and placed the order, greeting an enthusiastic Dobby and then sending him off for tea.

Blaise seated himself unceremoniously at the table, and stared avidly at the brunette, "So I'm Zabini then, am I?"

Hermione looked up from her tea, courtesy of Dobby, and blinked…twice.

"I beg your pardon?" She turned back to her tea and blew on the steamy surface.

Attempting to not focus on her lips, but her teacup- it was very flowery, he noted- he repeated himself.

"I had thought we were past that silly last names business."

"Why on earth would we be-"she broke off and slammed her teacup to the table, "Oh, I see. Who told you? Ernie, I'll bet."

Hermione threw herself down into the chair across from Blaise, "And now, you feel so bad that you want to be friends. Is that it?" She huffed and stabbed her scrambled eggs moodily.

Blaise watched a bit frightened at the demise of her breakfast, "Um, who's Ernie again?"

She sighed and looked up, "Listen, Blaise. It's very sweet of you, but you don't have to pretend anymore."

"Me? Pretend," he squeaked and suddenly found his food riveting.

Hermione nodded and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, "That's right, I know all about Terry. So, no more hiding. It'll take me a little time to get used to the idea, though."

Blaise's eyes widened, _'How in the bloody hell does she know that I fancy her? Damn, she probably hates me for hurting Boot…'_

He slumped in his seat wearily and ran a shaky hand through his hair, "How'd you find out?"

She left her now cold eggs in favor of her strawberry jam slathered toast, "To be honest, Colin."

"How the bloody hell does Colic know?"

"Col**in," **she admonished gently, "He ran into you in the hallway and-"

"But," he nearly shouted, causing several house elves to hid behind the stove, "I didn't tell him anything about-"

"Blaise, I know that this is awkward for you, but just deal with it. I know about you and Terry, now get over yourself long enough to listen to me."

She sighed and then inhaled sharply; did he think this was easy for her? The boy she fancies is not only gay, but has found out that she likes him and now out of pity wants to be friends. No bloody way was this easy.

"I know you and Terry are in love, and that I don't-"

"What in the blazes are you on about woman?" Blaise stood and paced the room nervously, "I'm most certainly not in love with Boot, I'm-" he stopped his walking abruptly and sat.

"Oh," Hermione tucked a strand of hair away behind her ear, "So you don't-"

"Know what you're going on about? No, I don't."

"Right then," Hermione blushed and exhaled, "So, you're not, well, you know…"

"No, I'm not gay."

"Ah," she cleared her throat embarrassedly, "Would you like a cup of tea then?"

---


	22. Ridiculously Short Interlude

Chapter 22:

Ridiculously Short Interlude

---

Blaise fingered his biscuit and took a sip of the offered tea warily. Call him crazy, but he couldn't very well focus on a bloody tea party when the girl he fancied had just accused him of being gay not a moment ago. His eyes narrowed as he slammed the unfortunate pastry upon the table.

"Well now, considering we've gotten that issue cleared up, I'll be going now." His mock-jovial voice broke off and he stared for a few seconds at the half-finished tea in his hand.

"Thanks for the tea," he muttered and sped out of the kitchen in a whirl.

If he had stayed but a moment longer, he would have witnessed Hermione slamming her head in to the table…multiple times, before muttering to herself about idiotic fifth year boys and their bloody lies.

---

Alright, immensely short chapter here…though I hope you had already grumbled that to yourself before moving on to click the review button and complain. Because, you people just adore leaving reviews, do you not? Yes, that was sarcastic. Though I do apologize to the few (fabulous) people who leave reviews, I love you so much! Um…not to make you uncomfortable with my confession or anything.

There IS a point to this author's note! Do NOT ignore it…please.

Ahem, I need your advice on where the story is going from here. Now, I do understand those of you who don't want to dish out their opinions, on the grounds that they like everything to be a surprise. So, if you're one of them go ahead and ignore the rest of the note (unless you're interested in being a beta-reader, in which case you would scroll down the page for that info.) Because of these people, I am going to make the poll confidential by sending it to the email accounts of those interested, so as to not ruin the surprise.

If you are interested, please leave a review saying so and supplying me with your email address. I'm going to set the deadline for **August 15th, 2005** because, well, it just sounds like a good date.

Anyway, after you place the review (remember, anytime between today, the 8th, and next Monday, the 15th) I'll send you an email to the account you listed in your review, with all of the possibilities for the upcoming plot. If you can come up with any other ideas please email them to me! After deliberating on the list of options, send you're choices/ideas to my email and I'll get back to you, whether to thank you profusely for participating or to question you on your choices/ideas.

Thank you!

Now, about being a Beta-reader…

I've gone back through my story, and realized that it would be a whole lot better if I had someone or a few people, going through it and pointing out mistakes or giving suggestions for the betterment of the chapter. So, I'm requesting that some of you wonderful readers volunteer for this assignment.

Being the awful person that I am, I'll need some example of writing, whether it be a quick sample off the top of your head, or a story off of your profile. Ideally, I'd love someone or some people, who can get back to me right away on the chapters so I can post them, but…hey. No one's perfect.

Thank you so much for reading this horrendously long Author's Note, even though I'm sure most of you fell asleep at your computers…Now, do you see why I need a Beta-reader?

Thanks again! I love you guys!


	23. The Refined Art of Drooling Over Bums

Chapter 23:

Of Suggestive Looks and Drooling Over Bums

---

Draco paced down the corridor, only pausing when Millicent pointed out that his designer shoes were beginning to leave scuff marks on the stone floor. At this inconsiderate comment, he told her to sod off, in turn causing Millie to tramp down the hallway after a group of giggling first year girls, looking for some "fun". The word "fun" in this instance, meaning, beating the firsties mercilessly in chess. Surprisingly, this was considered normal, as recently Dumbledore had brought in school counselors/physiatrists to lower the amount of parental complaints about injuries sustained at the academy. The wimps…

At his sullen glare at her comment on how lovely he was looking while resembling a psychopath, Pansy fell silent and busied herself with knitting him a sweater, a lofty goal indeed, considering the only sewing she had done was crocheting a sock for her 10-year-old niece. Needless to say, the sock is now currently being used as a quaint hat for the little girl's favorite doll.

Draco sighed and poked his head into the library, wincing and pulling back at Madame Pince's wicked look. Drumming his fingers against the frame of the door, he stared absently at the wall opposite.

"What the bloody hell are you on, Malfoy?"

Draco glanced up at the fiery mass of muscle above him- erm…at the red-headed Weasel above him and then at the boy-who-lived-to-be-a-silly-prick-incapable-of-dying.

"Oh, you're here." And with that he stalked down the corridor, pausing when the sound of additional footsteps did not manifest.

"Coming?" He turned and led the Gryffindors to a deserted classroom, Pansy bringing up the rear and trying to inconspicuously check out Harry's bum. Though stopping in mid-step and drooling, may not have been the best way to go about it, Pansy realized, it was highly effective.

* * *

Ron gulped and attempted to avoid the rather heated looks Malfoy was sending him. One minute the blonde would look like he wanted to eat him, and the next that he wanted to cut him into tiny pieces and then barbeque him. And possibly, Ron decided, then eat him.

So occupied with staring at anything but Malfoy, he missed the majority of Harry's conversation with the blonde prick.

"-Fine. When they're getting busy and making lots of little Granger's and Blaise's don't come crying to me, Potter."

"You're insane, Mal-"

"She's doing **what**? With **who**?" Ron's breathing picked up as he leaned against a desk.

"Don't you mean, 'She's doing who'?" Draco smirked as Ron fought for a hold of the desk.

Harry rolled his eyes and extended a hand to Ron, "Hermione is not shagging Zabini."

"I should hope **not**," gasped Ron while taking Harry's hand and hoisting himself upright.

Narrowing his eyes at the pair, Draco ran a hand through his hair, "They're at least snogging."

At Ron's choke, he smirked, "I walked in on Blaise," he paused for dramatics, "ravishing her."

* * *

Hermione gasped and looked up from her regular table in the library.

"I swore I heard someone scream," she muttered and then shrugged, turning back to her essay on the Uses of Goblin Blood in Medical Advancements of the Present.

* * *

Harry felt his eyes narrow of their own accord as Malfoy paced around Ron's prone body. The bloody prat had _known_ his comment would have that kind of effect on Ron, but the git said it anyway. Wanker…

Running a hand through his unruly hair, he stooped and shook his friend out of the reverie he'd fallen under, and then stood, glaring at Draco.

"Hermione wouldn't do that, Malfoy. She's too-"

Draco smirked and eyed Ron's untucked shirt, "Gryffindor? Potter, I'm afraid it's impossible to predict these things, don't blame yourself." He paused and licked his lips, "No, no. Go right ahead and blame yourself. Maybe a suicide would make up for all the wrong you've-"

Eyes rolling, Harry grabbed Ron's arm and started to drag him out of the room, "We don't need this."

Draco bit his lip and yanked Ron back, "No, you **do** need this."

Ron gulped and clawed for the door, "No, we most certainly do **not**."

Smirking, Draco eyed the redhead, "I didn't mean **that** Weasel, though that is a lovely thought…" He trailed off, looking up and down Ron suggestively, "I really do think we ought to concentrate on the disturbing couple parading their sick and twisted affair right under our noses."

Grudgingly Harry stepped back into the room, eyeing a drooling Pansy suspiciously. "You're sure?"

Draco sneered, "Of course I'm sure Pothead. I wouldn't have gone to you if I wasn't."

Gulping, Ron watched as Harry and Draco shook hands, a practice otherwise known as attempting to squeeze the life out of an enemy while keeping touching at a minimum, and agreed to stand together against the evil that was the heterosexual relationship between Zabini and Granger…in Draco's words of course.

---


	24. Zabini and the Twin from Hell

Chapter 24:

Slytherin Look-a-Like's and Squished Firsties

---

Hermione sighed and rested her head on the table in the library. Madame Pince, she knew, wouldn't appreciate the extra dusting the table was getting, but she just couldn't help herself.

He had sat directly across from her, his dark hair falling haphazardly over his twinkling eyes sheltered by those long sooty lashes. Hermione had smiled, he was the very image of heaven on earth…and then he opened his mouth, and hell descended.

"Close your mouth, would you Granger? I'm attempting to concentrate…" Hermione frowned and sat upright glaring at the boy across from her doing a wiggling gesture with his wand. Damn that Terrence Higgs…he just **had **to look nearly identical to Zabini. Well, if one cocked their head and squinted really hard that is. But, Hermione huffed, their hair color! For the love of Merlin they both had that lovely dark brown hair that fell just so, and curled so that Hermione could imagine herself taking a strand and-

'_Ahem. That is so very uncalled for, Hermione,' _she told herself, taking a deep breath and counting to ten.

Turning back to the undeniably attractive ('_Damn!'_) Slytherin, she pushed aside her books and slammed one petite fist on the table to attract his attention.

"Higgs! If I'm to tutor you, you **will **listen to me, or so help me I'll-"

Terence observed the Gryffindor with amusement and patted her hand consolingly, "Hang me up by my bits. We've been over this every week now, Granger. Don't you think it's time to put away the pleasantries and get down to business?"

Hermione glared, attempting to ignore the burning she could feel in her cheeks, "I wasn't going to say **that**, Higgs," with a conceding sigh she waved a dusty tome at him, "Page 697, Cheering Charms."

He took the proffered book with a groan, "Bloody hell, Granger, that's third year stuff!"

Another glare, this one hinting at torture, met his protests, "You've got to **review** to pass your N.E.W.T.'s, Higgs. Why you would want to stick around here with us simpletons for any longer than you must is beyond me…"

Terrence gave her a boyish grin, and tossed an arm across her shoulders, "Must be the company, Granger."

Hermione frowned and blinked owlishly at his arm- he had been sitting **across** the table from her…hadn't he? She followed the arm with her eyes…there was the shoulder, neck, face…And goodness. He was next to her now, wasn't he?

A few tut's escaped her mouth as she gingerly slunk out of his grip, "Charms, remember Higgs?"

"Of course," he said with a wink and a flick of his wand, "Goodness knows you need a cheering charm yourself, Granger."

Even as the sensation of pure unadulterated giddiness came over her, Hermione's frown deepened to hide the effect the charm was having on her. Damn these Slytherins! Why the bloody hell were they flocking around her like they were? Couldn't they just call her 'Mudblood' and be done with it? All this flirting…it was simply too much. First Zabini, who she now acknowledged she was head over bloody heels in love- erm…like with, and now this bugger…

"Terrence Higgs…" she spit out his name like a deadly curse, and only realized she had said anything at his raised eyebrow and canceled cheering charm.

"Very good, Higgs, "she managed, refusing to look him in the eyes. "I've got something to do now, try practicing Summoning Charms next- page 538. See you."

Terence's upper lip twitched, Zabini was right about the Gryffindor…she was delectable, and amusing as well. This would merit further investigation. Perhaps he'd fail Potions this year too.

* * *

"I am a bloody bastard." Blaise chuckled bitterly and tossed the book he was holding at a nearby first year, "No," he corrected himself, "He is a bloody bastard."

"Oh Blaise, "he mocked in a falsetto voice, his impression of Higgs, "I've noticed you've been hanging around Granger lately. I heard she's smart, think she'd tutor me?"

"Of course, "his interpretation of his own voice, deep and quite manly, came out while his navy eyes rolled. "She's smart, sure. And I can't get enough of her-bloody hell!"

Throwing himself down on the leathery couch, he bent over and began to vent at the carpet.

"Bloody Higgs. Bloody Granger. Damn, why does she have to be so-"With a frustrated cry, he launched himself back into the cushions.

The timid first year, now thoroughly squished by Spells and Sorcerers: Volume 1, shakily stuck out a quill and shook it weakly in an attempt to catch the older boy's attention.

"Sorry sir, I don't quite need all that. Um…just what you think about the new Professor would suffice for my column-"

Blaise's lips quirked up into a smirk, Andrew Sniggle ("First Rate reporter for your brand new Hogwarts Journal!") was certainly less bothersome with the 26 pounds of dusty paper-bound fiction on top of him. But still…that talking was quite tiring. Maybe another 15 pounds of so would do the trick- and so Seeking Parsnips and Porcupines was tossed onto the pile of literature and annoying boy, its sharp edges digging most uncomfortably into the child's liver.

Getting up from the couch and moseying to the dormitory stairs, Blaise tossed Wildebeests and Wine: the Must-Read Guide to Safaris in Wine Country onto the unfortunate first year, just for good measure.

"Thanks for the chat, Sniggle. By the way, I think the new Professor is just dandy." With an unusual giggle and flip of his hair, Blaise trounced up the stairs, mood now quite elevated, thank you very much.

---


	25. The Curses of Popularity

Chapter 25:

The Curses of Popularity

---

Parvarti frowned and flicked one dark spiral curl from her face-this look just wasn't working. With a muttered spell and a 'swish' and 'flick' of her wand, her hair returned to its natural sleekness. Sighing she pinned up the silky tendrils and painstakingly applied hairspray. Honestly…this took sooooo long. If she simply chose not to be gorgeous every day, imagine the potential she would finally live up to! Perhaps she would have been able to take O.W.L. level Potions…but then again, who would want to see that greasy bastard Snape every day? Except Malfoy of course…

With a small grunt (Quite ladylike, thank you very much.) of assent, she picked up a nearby shoe off of the floor and threw it at Lavender's head- oddly enough her friend had never complained about the daily wake-up call.

"I'm going to Breakfast, Lav. Catch up soon, will you?"

"Mmkay Pahvahtee," came the muffled, and slightly sore, reply from under scarlet covers.

Parvarti snorted and made her way out of the room, giving out nod of acknowledgement where they were due.

Harry- nod.

Ron- nod.

Seamus- nod.

Dean- nod.

Ginny- nod.

Finally entering the Great Hall she sighed as more people who merited nods were present. Gods, if only she weren't so popular, her head wouldn't be so very tired at the end of the day. But alas…that was the curse of **such** legendary beauty.

"Psst- Pehvatri! C'mere!"

Raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, Parvarti looked down with frustrated amusement at the short Hufflepuff.

"It's Par-Var-Ti." With a sigh and a tossing of her head, she followed him out of the Hall.

"What now, Ernie? Neville's toad eat your Charms essay again? I'm not going to get it for you this-"

"No, no. None of that nonsense. This time it's Malfoy."

Parvarti hissed at the name and ducked into a nearby broom closet, her manicured nails digging into Ernie's arm painfully, "The walls they have ears, Ernie! Speak not the evil name!"

Ernie pouted and nursed the crescent shaped marks in his arms pitifully, "No need for dramatics Par, we've got work to do."

Parvarti rolled her eyes and leaned against the stacked cleaning supplies, frowning at the mention of the alliance between Harry and Malfoy. As he finished speaking and collapsed against a makeshift stool to catch his breath Parvarti straightened, "Well, we'll have to be a bit more effective, now won't we?"

Pushing the door open she threw him one last glance over her shoulder, "Do work on that plan of yours, McMillan."

Ernie snarled and yanked bristles out of his short hair, "**My** plan? Bribing the bloody wall was her idea! Stupid Gryffindors…"

* * *

Lavender stared blankly at the boy in front of her- choppy auburn hair, brown eyes, nervous twitch…

With a horror-filled gasp, she shook him erratically, "Ernie! Are you doing those muggle things? The erm…eh. Drumps, that's it! Ernie, you're on drumps, aren't you?"

Ernie winced and placed a hand placating on her shoulder, "No I'm not on 'drumps', Lavender. I just need your help."

Lavender shrugged and dropped the shorter boy on the floor, "Mmhmm?"

"Um," he stretched out his legs on the floor carefully, wincing at a tell-tale 'crack', "It all started when Hermione asked me for help with Zabini…"

Lavender blinked, "Who?"

Sighing exasperatedly he massaged his temples wearily, "Dark brown hair, sort of curly. Slytherin. Um…" he squinted and tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully, "Drop dead gorgeous?"

"Oh!" Lavender's eyes lit up- finally a subject she could relate to! "**That** Zabini!"

And so Ernie told her a tale of heroics, of sorcery, or damsel-in-distress's, and of a love so passionate and so obsessive that it simply could not be ignored. One wonders at a time like this, what Ernie was currently high on. However, it was Lavender's personal belief that he had a stash of 'drumps' under his mattress.

---


	26. Chairs that Scoot

Chapter 26:

Partners from Hell and Chairs that Scoot

---

Hermione licked her lips nervously and felt a bead of sweat steadily make its way down her neck. It was that time of year again- it was the day Professor Binns assigned partner projects. Insert dramatic music here…

And of course she just **had** to have History of Magic with the Slytherins- the entire House of which it seemed had begun to stalk her recently. Between classes, at mealtimes, free afternoons, Hogsmeade visits…They were always there. Watching. Whispering. And overall being bloody annoying.

But that was beside the point, the point being that Binns was bloody insane and there were **Slytherins** in the room! She huffed and collapsed onto her desk, this situation certainly merited a good long moping session.

"As you all know, it is time to choose your partners for the –"Moping session officially interrupted.

"However because your judgment can not be trusted," Binns threw a withering look at Malfoy, who was edging his seat closer and closer to a fidgeting Ron, "I will be choosing your partners in your stead." Malfoy's cross-room journey ceased and began again in reverse.

Hermione groaned and considered the consequences of murdering the Professor…again. Harry shot her a sympathetic glance from the seat next to her, "This thing doesn't sound that bad, 'Mione."

Glaring at her quill, she bit her lip. As amusing as Malfoy scooting across the room quasi-casually was, the whole not getting to pick their own partners thing was a bit of a damper on the occasion.

"Crabbe and Finnegan." The small Irishman moaned as if shot and slumped onto his desk.

"Malfoy and Weasley." Ron's eyes looked heavenward and he could be heard pleading with God for another chance at life.

"Parkinson and Patil." The two girls exchanged heated looks, the confrontation ending in Parvarti grudgingly offering Pansy a shoe-related compliment.

Hermione sighed and sat upright, this really was taking far too long. Soon the names began to blend together, and she stared blankly at the wall through Binns barely listening to what seemed like "Goy-bottom." and "Hig-otter."

"Zabini and Granger."

Exchanging a pleased smirk and an apprehensive smile respectively, the two then hurriedly looked away not noticing the snarling from the Malfoy-Potter-Weasley team or the girlish giggling of the Parvarti-Ernie-Lavender group-despite one member being missing (Lavender giggled a bit louder to make up for the absence).

* * *

Ron gulped nervously and scooted his chair a bit farther from Malfoy. The git couldn't be trusted…

With a skittish mumble he pulled a stray thread from his shirt, "So, what're we gonna do?"

Draco looked up from his quill and licked his lips in anticipation, "What indeed?"

Eyes widening, Ron busied himself with scooting his chair even further from the Slytherin.

"I was thinking something along the lines of-"

"Oi. Is this it?" Ron frowned and leaned across Malfoy, clumsily snatching the parchment Draco had been writing on and giving it a good look.

"History of Magic Project Ideas," he read without even pretending interest, "Odwidge the Ominous-Battle of- Mr. Draco Weasley." Ron blanched and shot Malfoy an incredulous look.

Scoot. Scoot. Scoot.

"Misters Draco and Ronald Weasley," he continued with a wince at his given name.

Draco frowned and snatched the paper back from Ron, "Want to know my personal favorite, Weasel?"

Scoot. Scoot. Scoot.

He cleared his throat, "Dr. and Mr. Ron Weasley." At Ron's blank stare he elaborated, "You're a Healer; I stay at home with the kids. Three of them, you know. Two boys and a girl. David, Michael, and Fra-"

"K-kids?" Ron managed to croak out, "H-how? Wait!" he shut his eyes and plugged his ears, "I don't want to know!"

Draco smirked and leaned forward to whisper in Ron's ear, "Sure? Well you see, there's this certain spell…very dark magic-"

Ron paled, "Sorry, can't hear you! La, la, la…"

Draco sighed in exasperation- it was endearing at first, but now it was bordering on bothersome. Yanking Ron's chair back to its original position in front of the table, he didn't miss a beat. Shoving 1601 Reasons Goblins Never Quite Stop Fighting in front of the red-head he grabbed another tome and began to read, jotting down notes just under "DM+RW". Still seeing no response from the taller boy, he poked him quite rudely.

"Oi. You there, Weasel? Pull your own weight will you? I'm dainty, and I can't very well lug your sorry arse around by myself."

Ron blinked at the blonde as a quill was thrust into his hand along with a piece of parchment.

"Eh?"

Draco's brow furrowed- how to get through to the bloke? Ah yes, that would work.

"Ahem, Weasel." Catching Ron's attention, he leaned in close to the other boy's face, "Weasel," he cooed, feeling Ron's breath quicken, "Read and take notes…good notes. Or else I'll-"he paused and licked his lips, "Well, you don't want to find out, now do you?"

Ron shook his head and burrowed his nose into the book, writing down every other sentence that started with a 'Q'. It wasn't all that effective, but at least it was something, Draco reasoned with a sigh.

* * *

Hermione grumbled and stabbed the table with her quill- bloody Binns for sticking her with Bl-Zabini. The daft old codger must have been out of his mind… And Zabini! Did he fall on his knees and thank Merlin that he was paired with her? Well, no actually. He didn't- the ungrateful bastard…

She huffed and stole a glance at the dozing boy beside her- **that** certainly could not be construed as productive… With an irritated sigh, the brunette attempted to poke Blaise awake; dammit they had a project to work on!

Blue eyes squinting open, Blaise blinked blankly at her.

"Can I help you?"

Hermione's rage had now reached an unprecedented high. Across the room, Harry and Ron exchanged harried looks and attempted to hide behind their respective partners. Draco basked in the attention and Terrence looked relatively disturbed- until she exploded.

"Yes, you bloody well can help me Zabini," she hissed out in disgust. Slamming a text in front of him, she narrowed her eyes menacingly.

"If you make me fail this project, you self-absorbed, chauvinistic prick, so help me I'll-"

Attempting to focus on the waggling finger in front of his nose, Blaise went cross eyed and smiled. Damn, did she have to be so bloody adorable?

"Granger," he cooed placating and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You've forgotten 'Dashing, charming, chivalrous, intelligent and talented'."

Hermione seethed and clenched her fists imagining it was **his** perfect neck she was wringing, "Do your work- now."

"Pushy, aren't we?" He snickered at her expression and pinched her cheeks ("Wittle Hermione is so sweet! Yes, she is! Yes, she is!") before turning to the text in front of him.

After jotting down some nonsense on Irvine the Irritable, he frowned at her silence and turned to see her staring blankly at him.

Barely holding back a smirk, he tapped her research papers, "Get to work, lazy bum- I can't do it all myself."

---


	27. Victim Carrots and Pet Names

Chapter 27:

Victim Carrots and Pet Names

---

Harry glared at his pot roast, wishing that it was his idiot partner. _'Higgs,'_ he hissed inwardly while attempting to grind the meat into the cold porcelain of his plate.

God damn it! Why did the bastard have to sit with him at mealtime? He sighed and speared a carrot- it was a cruel world.

Terrence blinked and stopped his monologue to glance Harry stabbing an unsuspecting vegetable.

"Oi, Potter." Harry looked up, "Hmm?"

"Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Eh," the raven haired boy squinted and readjusted his glassed, "No."

Eyes narrowing, Terrence huffed and extracted himself from the Gryffindor table, "Oh yes, bloody fine team we are. Damn Binns…"

* * *

Draco beamed at the red-headed Weasel across from him. "You thought you would win, didn't you? Well, I proved you wrong! So there- HAH!" He slammed the knight down on the chess board and waited for Ron's tears of misery.

"Uh, Malfoy?"

"Hmm?" Draco dropped his victory pose for a moment and directed his eyes to where Ron was pointing.

"That's not a move."

"Eh?"

Ron sighed and repeated himself, making sure to enunciate every word. "That. Move. Doesn't. Exist."

Draco looked at the board and scratched his head, "What? But I just did it-"He frowned as the sound of Ron's head slamming against the table could be heard.

"Ah, Weasel? Something the matter?"

The slamming only got louder.

* * *

Whispers floated down the corridor to a pair of rather bored ears. Professor Snape cringed as he became privy to the gruesome scheme of one Terry Boot to win 'the stunning Hermione Granger' back. The sallow-skinned man sighed in irritation and hunched into the room.

"Boot. Detention tomorrow after dinner in the Dungeons."

Terry blinked up from the conversation he had been holding with a house elf.

"Um, but I- erm…that is to say- Eh, why?"

Snape sneered at the Ravenclaw and muttered a spell to untie the gagged creature, "Because you annoy the hell out of me."

The brunet scratched his head thoughtfully, "Ah, I'm not so sure that's grounds for detention-"

"**Quiet!**" Terry cast an apologetic glance to the trembling house elf, though whether it was for the numerous rope burns or the sudden deafness inflicted, Snape couldn't tell.

"Boot- out now." Snape sighed in satisfaction as the boy's groans of misery floated over him. Feeling just a bit unlike himself, he followed the boy out the door before turning and calling after him.

"Boot, don't forget out date! Tomorrow. Dungeon. You. Me. Dirty Cauldrons. Ooh-" he smirked at Terry's aghast face and threw him a saucy wink over his shoulder while walking away.

"See you tomorrow, Puddin'"

A resounding thump could be heard as Terry dropped to the floor in a dead faint, leaving the disgruntled house elf to clean up the smudges of blood left on the stone.

---


	28. Devotion, NOT Obsession, Thank You!

Chapter 28:

Devotion, **Not** Obsession, Thank You Very Much

---

They really weren't very good at scheming, Pansy decided with a resolute nod. They were _Slytherins_ for God's sake- they were supposed to be! But, alas…they just couldn't sit still long enough to think of anything remotely diabolical.

Draco was off on another monologue about his "utterly delicious Gryffindor Weasley King-", Crabbe and Goyle were having a serious discussion over…something. What, Pansy couldn't tell, though if the licking of their lips and the random bursts of mutterings like "So good!" and "Simply delectable!" were anything to go by, they were talking about food…or shagging.

Pansy shook the horrifying image out of her head and turned to her last hope of sanity in the Slytherin Commons- Terrence Higgs. Eh, who was staring at her?

"Uh-"she blushed furiously and cleared her throat, looking away from the tempting sight. Sadly, this did not stop her from squealing loudly like a fangirl- but she couldn't help it! After all, he was wearing his mussed Quiddich robes thrown open, revealing a nearly skin-tight shirt and precariously low trousers. What self-respecting girl could resist?

'_Stay true to Colin…Colin…Colin…Ah, just another inch and- NO! Naughty, naughty Pansy! Mmm, I think I need to be spanked- Ack! No no no no nonononononono…'_

Terrence watched in amusement as Pansy blushed and muttered to herself- honestly, she was just too easy to fluster.

He leaned back into the couch and then arched his back in a stretch, making sure to expose another half-inch of his mid-drift. At her poorly covered gasp, he looked back to her face, using his patented 'Smoldering-Stare-Of-Smut', smirking in satisfaction as her face turned an interesting shade of purple.

Barely still breathing, Pansy stared at the edge of his trousers, silently willing then to slip another half-inch, and vainly restraining a frustrated growl when they stayed stationary.

'_Wait, think about Colin…Rhymes with Bolin…Which looks like Balin…Root of which is Ball…s. Oh dear God! Think, think! What would Granger do? Ah…'_

She attempted to fight down the blush and faced him, feeling as if she was staring Satan in the face, "Good Arithmancy lesson today, eh?"

Terrence regarded her with something akin to pity- "Pansy, you don't take Arithmancy."

"Ah- I…erm. I heard about the lesson." She exhaled shakily and offered him a sheepish smile, which on her pug-like face, really resembled more of a grimace.

He smile patronizingly at her, "Yes, it was a good lesson." A chuckle then: "I'm not taking Arithmancy."

"Oh," she blinked, "Muggle Studies was fascinating as well."

An exasperated sigh was his only response.

* * *

"So, it's decided then."

A nod.

"Right- Irving the Irritable is out."

A grunt.

"Urg the Unagreeable?"

Grunt.

"Out then."

Mumble.

"What's that you say?"

Mumble mumble.

"Eh- I think that one's been taken."

Grumble.

"Ah, me too."

Grunt.

"So…"

Grunt.

"Meet back here tomorrow, maybe? Same time?"

Grunt- and then a nod. An odd combination, Terrence decided, one that Harry hadn't yet used to ignore him with yet.

'_Oh joy…'_ was the only thought that came to mind, as the Slytherin left the library and anticipated their next meeting.

* * *

"Zabini, I don't see why you find this all that amusing."

He turned to glance at her- taking in her pouting lips, her flushed cheeks, the fire that seemed to burn in her eyes-... Shaking his head, he turned back to the couple he-**_they_**- were spying on.

"Come now, Granger, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back with my sanity," she replied wryly, looking back longingly at the Great Hall, "And with my lovely Pork Roast."

"Oh come now," he smiled and motioned for her to keep it down, "I heard it was dry- dreadful stuff it is, your arteries will clog."

Just a _bit_ irritated- bordering on homicidal, actually-, she '_sshh_'ed him, and scooted closer to the couple.

"'Zabini,' he mocked in a falsetto, 'I don't see why you find this all that amusing.'"

She scowled at him, throwing a hand over his mouth, muttering a fond "Bastard…" under her breath.

Smirking, he pushed away the hand, ignoring her outraged exclamation at him having pushed it away with his tongue. Instead, he treated her to a "Hush," and darted across the aisle to hide behind a disgruntled fourth year attempting to study for O.W.L.S.

"I don't bloody care- can't you see I love-"

"No, I won't hear of it-"

"NO! You must listen- ever since you saved me…from myself. I wanted to end it. This whole damned life of study study study!"

"Ahem…well this is awkward."

"Awkward? I love you and you **_find this awkward?_**"

"Just a smidge."

"You-you-"

"I'm sorry, but another has already captured my heart." He then proceeded to ramble on about chestnut locks and clear cinnamon eyes, intelligence that knew no bounds and talent to make Merlin turn over in his grave.

The girl opposite him, with her own _dull_ dark brown hair and murky hazel eyes, fumed as her rivals attributes escaped the lips of her obsession.

"**Hermione Granger- you will pay for this blasphemy!"**

A couple shelves over, the one-and-only Hermione Granger whimpered and clung to Blaise's sleeve like a lifeline.

"Oh Merlin," she wheezed, "There's a psycho wanting to off me."

Blaise glanced at the still fuming brunette across the library- Mandy Brocklehurst was obsessive, yes. But frightening?

Seeing her stab a book she had hastily labeled 'Hermione', and then growl off a flustered Madame Pince- he decided that now would be a good time to escape while they still had their lives.

Of course, Terry Boot remained blissfully oblivious during the entire encounter, glad to have finally found someone to share his own deep and tragic love with.

"Oh that's lovely Mandy! You've made a portable 'Hermione' for me- now I can bring her with me wherever I go…Erm. I don't think the holes quite do her lovely freckles justice though."

"They're pocks."

"Ah…_Perfect_ Hermione doesn't have pocks, Mandy."

"No, she does. They're **dreadful.** She has to wear gallons of makeup to conceal them."

Blaise choked as Hermione clawed out of his grip to get to the "thieving, conniving little bitch, that Brocklehurst…"

He bit his lip and yanked her back out into the hall, leaving Mandy to exult her own smooth clear skin and wouldn't Terry like to stroke it?

Terry replied that no, he wouldn't, for her skin could never compare the milky soft texture of **his** Hermione's- as once, during Arithmancy he had brushed her hand and it was simply divine, all skin-like and he bet it would taste like vanilla or cocoa-

Mandy just sat there and every once in a while interjected a comment about Hermione's arthritis and rheumatism…and didn't she have the frizziest hair he had ever seen?

To which Terry's reply was outraged and quite devoted…and of course, much too dull to display here. Tsk, tsk. He should be more like Hermione- divine, lovely, oh so quick-witted Hermione…

Mandy kicked the table, barely comprehending the stinging pain in her foot as it was overshadowed by a greater pain in her heart. With God as her witness, Hermione Granger would pay for stealing Terry away from her! The Brocklehurst family did not give up easily- her own Uncle Francis spent weeks stalking his own son's prospective wife, saying he had to make sure she was good enough for his little boy. Granted, a month before the wedding, he had run off with the girl to an odd place called 'Ve-Gas' to marry her and then ditch her for a showgirl from a local casino…_but at least he was steadfast about the whole thing!_

Ah…did she mention that mental instability also ran in the family? Oh, no worries, it only appeared in seventy-five percent of the women as opposed to ninety-eight percent in the men. That was **bloody** optimistic, when she considered it seriously. No, it most certainly wasn't the fire-whiskey she was sneaking under the table talking. It was her, Mand-ee Brocckkleeeehuurssssssst! Whee…

With a sound 'plop!', she dropped to the ground in a dead faint, leaving Terry to discuss the wonders of Hermione's new socks with his newly-named 'mini-Hermione'- the aptly labeled 'Hermione' book Mandy had _so_ kindly bestowed upon him. He should really get that girl a Christmas present this year considering she was so thoughtful…

---


	29. The Wonders of Being a Hufflepuff

Chapter 29:

The Wonders of Being A Hufflepuff and So On and So Forth

---

Hannah winced as an obviously smashed Terry bumped into her. She attempted an apathetic gaze as he flailed about on the floor, but then sighed and knelt beside him, holding him still to prevent him from hurting himself- damn her caring nature!

"Alright there, Terry?"

"Eehh- shtat uoo Hunnnna?"

Biting her lip, she contemplated her options. (A) Run like hell or (B) Deal with a drunk Ravenclaw. Extending a hand to help him up, she sighed as he grasped it and hoisted himself up before playing 'This little Piggy' with her fingers.

"Terry," he pouted as the piggies were yanked away from him, "What happened to you?"

Terry sniffed and continued to mourn the loss of his favorite little farm animals.

In the incoherent jumble of words that spilled out of his mouth, Hannah skillfully extracted something that sounded like "Snape" and "lover".

Before falling to the ground in a dead faint, Hannah reflected that it was a shame she hadn't known about Snape's ahem…preferences in advance- her Uncle Albert had been looking a bit lonely these days…

* * *

It was a good day for irresistibly beautiful Ravenclaws, Cho decided. But then again, what day wasn't? Her bell-like laugh resounded throughout the dormitory before falling short, as Cho realized that such a stunning girl- no, **woman**- as herself shouldn't be alone.

She shuffled past her four-poster and rummaged through her trunk, finally selecting a fresh jumper and pleated skirt. After slipping it on, Cho displayed herself before the mirror, letting comments of "Lovely, dear" and "Shame to waste such beauty indoors" roll over her while brushing off imaginary dirt from her immaculate collar.

Now that she was suitable attired, all that was left was her fan club. Hmm, Roger Davies had graduated- that was no good. Justin Finch-Fletchley was too clingy, besides didn't he have a girlfriend now? Oh yes, Murrieta had snapped him up as revenge for the whole DA thing. Ah, the DA! Harry Potter was still hopelessly in love with her, wasn't he?

'_Well, that settles it. Now where could he be?'_

Shrugging oh-so-demurely, Cho directed herself out the door and toward the library- he **was** boring enough to be there, she supposed.

* * *

Terrence's eye twitched of its own accord as the raven-haired _thing_ openly flirted and touched ("**Bitch…**") Potter. It wasn't that he was jealous or anything absurd like that…he just- damn. Alright, he was jealous. But- but only because Potter-

'_Well shit. I fancy the bastard.'_ He sighed to himself- stranger things had happened. A high-pitched giggle brought his attention back to **him**…

"Potter."

"Eh?" Harry glanced at the other boy…who seemed to be steaming. _'Ah- that's not normal.'_

"Project, remember?" Terrence inhaled sharply as the bitch tugged on **his** sleeve.

"Harry," she whined, laying a hand on **his** arm, "You leaving me?"

Everyone's favorite scarhead blinked and performed the British equivalent to a sweatdrop, "Um, Cho-"

Terrence exhaled with a loud '_whoosh_' and yanked Cho's arm and, by attachment, Cho away from Harry and out of the library, where he then deposited her onto the floor with a "**Mine!**" for good measure.

Stepping back into the room, he plopped down next to Harry and remarked on the lovely weather before turning back to the books on the opposite chair.

Harry closed his gaping mouth and stared wide-eyed at the shaking doors, where he assumed Cho was clawing at the lock. Shuddering slightly, he scooted as inconspicuously as possible away from Terrence- the bloke was _mad_…

* * *

Ernie gulped and shut the door at the request of Parvarti, taking a deep breath before facing her again…and recoiling in horror.

Parvarti's eyes met his, "**What?** _Why does everyone do that? Do I look **that** bad?_"

"A-ah. No…you look spiffy." He forced himself to smile at her, dark circles, matted down hair, and all.

"I haven't been sleeping well," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, frowning when it became lodged in one particularly tough snarl.

"Uh- any reason?"

Giving him an irritated glance, Parvarti leaned against the cluttered wall of the broom closet.

"You saw," at his blank look, she continued, "Hermione got flowers and candy with a card that said they were from a 'Certain Slytherin'."

"Y-you?"

"Yeah, they were supposed to be from Blaise, but-"

"But?"

"They never got to her! That idiot owl landed in Ron's plate and he ripped the gifts up, that idiot…"

He clucked sympathetically while she shook with fury, "Then I snuck a love letter from him onto her pillow, and the big lug actually sniffed it out!"

"Eh- Ron? In the girl's dorm?"

"No," she broke into tears, "C-Crooksh-shanks!"

"Um…"

"H-he ate it, and then threw it up all over my new shoes!"

"No!" He patted her on the back warily, glancing at the door that she was blocking.

'_Damn…'_

* * *

Hermione coughed and rolled over irritably. Honestly, there was nothing to do- under normal circumstances she'd study, but there was no more work to be done except Prof. McGonagal's suggestion that she "attempt to open up socially"- which, of course, was utter rubbish. She was plenty open already.

The brunette grunted and tugged on one crimson curtain, shaking out the wrinkles. Sighing, she lay back on her pillow and tried _again_ to sleep…

_Step. Step._

"_Eh?" Hermione glanced up to the…suddenly empty hallway. Curious, curious._

_Step. Gurgle._

"_Heh," she cleared her throat and plucked up her courage, "W-Who's there?"_

'_**Ah yes, old girl. That stutter was positively frightening. I'm sure that the possible psycho/stalker/rapist won't attack you now…'**_

_Step. Step. Stepstepstepstepstepstep-_

"_Ah…"_

_Scuffle. Pound. Pound-_

"_Screw it-" Hermione winced and mentally noted that she had watched far too many American movies. This thought processed, she stood amidst her wonderings of why in the bloody hell she was on the floor at all, and sprinted toward the door opposite her._

_Pound. **Pound. Pound. Pound.**_

_She squeaked and ran toward the **other** door- it probably wasn't good sense to run **towards **the frightening noises._

_**Cr-Ack!**_

"_Eh?" Hermione turned and winced as the lights snuffed out. **'Ah…'** _

_Turning around the face the no-doubt frightening and maybe even dangerous noises, she frowned as the dark pressed in about her eyes. _

"_Just my luck, of course." A faint groan reverberated throughout the room, and Hermione flinched but nonetheless…walked toward it?_

"_Ack!" She pulled fruitlessly at her legs, willing them to stop. Who knew what was in that room? Torturing devices, maybe? Knives…Whips…Gags…Certainly not fluffy pillows._

"**_Argh…" Pant. Pant. Pant._**

_Hermione's eyes widened, "Oh Merlin, don't let me die. No. No. Nononononononono-"_

_The door seemed to open on its own accord- well, actually it just seemed like it considering her eyes were closed. And, of course, because she was having a nervous breakdown. That too._

"_Oh- um. Can I help you?"_

"_-nonononononononononono- eh?"_

_He blinked up at her from his position on the floor, "I said- 'Can I help you?'."_

_She gasped, "Um. No. Sorry."_

_He nodded, glancing her over with a cautious look as though she were about to jump him, "Right."_

_The boy then proceeded to ignore her and did a few more push-ups. Well, he tried to. For some reason the drooling girl in the corner distracted him- the saliva was running onto his hands. _

_He rolled his eyes and stopped, "Anything else?"_

"_No- I just. Well, I heard noises. Was that…?" She whistled innocently and directed her gaze away from his dripping pectorals (**'Mmmmm…')**._

"_Me? No, I don't think so. Through that door though," he nodded off to the side and went back to his workout regime. **'Anthony Goldstein, you are one sexy bastard.' **_

_Hermione offered him a sheepish smile and turned toward the other door where disturbing grunts were disrupting the Ravenclaw's peace judging by his furrowed brow._

"**_Nghhh-"_**

_Shuddering, she opened the door, and braced herself for the inevitable pain._

…

…

…

…

"_Ah…?" Hermione cracked an eye open, looking around for the source of the noises…_

"_Miss Granger? 20 points from Gryffindor."_

_The brunette redirected her gaze to the voice, blanching. "Er- Professor Snape?"_

_A high-pitched giggle came from the four-poster she hadn't noticed, "Severus, come back to bed…"_

_Hermione swallowed down the bile threatening to rise-"L-Lucius Malfoy?"_

_Snape smiled patronizingly at her, "Yes dear, now scat- the grownups want to **play**…"_

_She nearly sprinted out of the room and to the nearest toilette- even the image of the oh-so-delectable Anthony Goldstein couldn't save her poor mind now._

_After allowing her body to perform its natural responses to no doubt NC-17 rated scenes involving her slimy Potions professor and a fellow student's **father**, she wiped her mouth wearily and…promptly leaned over the porcelain god to- erm…submit more offerings._

_Dear god, Snape had been starkers._

---


	30. The Horrors of Being Considerate

Chapter 30:

The Horrors of Being Considerate

---

Hermione twitched as Ron poked her side rather forcefully.

"Oi- what the hell's the matter with you?"

Of course, the scrambled eggs spilling out of his mouth hampered the comment _just_ slightly ("Oiff- whaffte da 'elf's da maddu wiff yous?") Nevertheless, the meaning got across.

"Bad dreams," she grunted with a half-hearted disparaging look at his table etiquette, "Haven't gotten much sleep."

"I trust however, this development will not stop you from being a general know-it-all in my class?"

Hermione's twitch grew even more violent.

Snape tutted at her, "Pity."

Snarling at him, she eyed his form with distaste…well, at least it was fully clothed.

"Ever so sorry to disappoint you Miss Granger."

The twitch paused and then began again in earnest- "Ah, pardon Professor?"

Lips curling into a half-grimace half-smirk, Snape tapped her nose patronizingly, "Little darling," he began in a nasal voice, "I'm afraid we can't all have your stunning taste in fashion."

The smirk grew as he viewed her untucked blouse, crinkled skirt and stained jumper- "I know how hard it is to keep tidy and civilized Miss Granger- but please think of the poor easily corrupted children-" He motioned toward Ron and then swept past the group to the Head table, leaving a quaking Terry Boot in his wake.

* * *

Sniff.

…

Sniff. Sniff.

…

Sniff. Sniff. _Sniff!_

Pansy pouted at the most _un-_polite silence and delicately dabbed a tissue at her pink nose- "Didn't you know Millie? When one encounters one whom has caught a cold it is common courtesy for one to offer a remedy or hope for improved health to the one whom is ill."

Millicent glanced up from her brightly colored book ('Spellbinding!' says Witch Weekly, 'Marbeim has outdone himself…again!') and blinked rather haughtily at the sniffling girl.

"A remedy, Pansy? Ah, how about not staying out all hours watching Higgs fly like a drugged up bat?" She sighed, knowing that Pansy wasn't listening, if the other girl's squirming while trying to twist underneath Millie's book and take a peek at the 'Romance Novel for the Ages! (says Gilderoy Lockhart, 'A Masterpiece Nearly as Good As My Own Writings!'.

"Bugger off, Pansy." With that said, Millie swatted at the blonde's grabbing fingers and closed the emerald curtains on her four-poster with a decisive 'swish'.

"Miiiiiillie!"

"No."

Pansy pouted and slunk over onto her own bed. Hmmm…well no matter what the other Slytherin said, it had been worth it to stay outside, no matter the cold. Pansy had discovered that Higgs did indeed **not** wear knickers underneath his robes- bloke probably didn't expect people to stare up his clothes- public modesty or some rubbish or that sort. She snorted and proceeded to drool over the memory.

* * *

Draco sighed wearily and aimed a half-hearted kick at the comatose form in front of the dead fireplace.

"Eh- uh…" he paused mid-kick and attempted to remember the name of the simpleton- "Um, erm- T-Timothy?" His nose wrinkled up at the name- No that wasn't it…oh well, who bloody cared?

'Timothy' grunted and latched onto the proffered foot, "Mum, I've got the toad here. Its shoe…mumble mumble-"

Frowning, Draco shook his foot- these were new shoes! Finally resigning himself to captivity, he sat on the rug and prodded the smaller boy with his foot (again…) for good measure.

'Timothy' sniffed and released the foot with a disappointed groan, yawning at the 6th year.

Draco smirked, "Mornin' Sunshine."

The boy's eyes widened as he carefully wiped drool from his face and licked dry lips.

"Eh?"

"Yeah, whatever-your-name-is, I need-" Draco eyed the slobber that had been unwittingly rubbed onto his trousers, "-a favor."

"Um. Sorry-"he blinked, gulping at the drool. "W-what kind of favor?"

"Simply tail someone for me." At the other's blank look, he continued: "You know, see where they go, who they meet, what they say, how they're planning on matching up a horrid mudblood with my best mate- just general rubbish."

'Timothy' shuddered at the obsessive smile the other had donned- "Erm…it's Malcolm."

"Hmm?"

"Ah, my name- it's Malcolm."

"…"

"Malcolm Baddock."

"…"

"Third year?"

"…And you say this _why_?"

"Oh- just a thought." He regained his composure, "Who do I stalk for you?"

Draco winced, "Ah, 'stalked' is such a vulgar word…I prefer 'feign ignorance of the existence of privacy laws'- _Ah, _what the hell- I want you to stalk Ernie MacMillan."

* * *

Ernie shuddered as a chill ran through his body. Answering the knee-jerk reaction with a sneeze, he sniffled wiping his nose and gazed dazedly at the wall of the Hufflepuff common room.

The room was just lovely- well perhaps if you were his Great Aunt Muriel. Flower-patterned couches clashed horribly with honey-colored curtains and long-ago-had-been-white worn rugs. Ernie winced as a particularly bad sneeze caught him- on a willow-patterned lamp sitting next to Susan Bones ("Ah…handkerchief?"). Accepting the token with a cross between a shrug and a lunge- his own creation that served to make him appear both aloof and desperate (quite the accomplishment if he did say so himself) he wiped his nose and offered Susan a weary nod of thanks.

"Sus- ah…**choo!**-need- **cough cough**- drugs or- **sniff sniffle**- die –** mm-choo!**- Later-"

With his stunning monologue out of the way, Ernie tuned on his heel, presumably to seek out Madame Pomfrey. Or at least Susan hoped- she _had_ heard some rather disturbing rumors…

Nearly running into the corridor wall, made of course of spongy soft **stone**, Ernie managed to drag himself to the Medical Ward. After 'convincing' ("Madame? I've got some lovely pictures of you and Professor Snape at the Christmas Feast- fancy a look?"), Madame Pomfrey to cough up some Sleeping Potion, he downed the bitter liquid in one gulp, while stumbling out into the hall and promptly crashed headfirst into a conveniently placed wall…erm- Slytherin. Hah- fate's a bitch.

---


	31. Hufflepuffs, Goblins, Fangirls, Oh My!

Chapter 31:

Hufflepuffs, Goblins, and Fangirls- Oh My!

* * *

Malcolm grunted irritably as his target attempted to keep his balance- which of course involved clinging to Malcolm like a second skin. Ugh, Hufflepuff trash.

He winced as the older boy slipped to the ground bringing Malcolm with him- despite the Hufflepuffs frantic attempts to grab the wall. Sighing as the other boy hit him in the eye for the fifth time, Malcolm bit his lip in frustration and tried to recall if Malfoy forbid him from mauling the dolt. Well, he hadn't _exactly_…

"Oof-"Ernie gasped as the dark-haired boy's fist plummeted into his mid-drift: _'What the hell?'_

He winced and scooted as far away as possible- Merlin, were all Slytherins as psycho as Malfoy?

…

Apparently so. Damn.

The Slytherin stood- at which point Ernie noticed with detached curiosity that he was sort of attractive…in a slimy git kind of way. If you liked that type…

'_Oh for the love of-'_ **He **did!

"Damn Hufflepuffs…"

It speaks! Ernie snorted and added a notch in the Intelligence category of his Prospective Boyfriends list. …It was for his friends- really. _Yeah_…whatever.

Dusting himself off, he shakily stood using a rock hard wall for support- good god! It was the Slytherin again! Mmmm….muscles…_'Oh- not good! No drooling Ernie…Ah, ask him something! Go on, no just standing there like an idiot…'_

"Erm…gotoHogsmeadewithme?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at the bumbling boy- "Do what with you?"

"Ah," Ernie took a deep breath- _'**Merlin**, that's fantastic cologne…'_-"Hogsmeade. You know, would you go with me?"

Well this was different. Malcolm rubbed a tanned arm across the back of his neck wearily- bloody hell, Malfoy owed him for this one.

"Sure- but first I was wondering something…"

Poor Ernie never saw it coming. Though…he got a date out of the whole ordeal, so he didn't really care anyway _('Damn he's tall…Mmm- yummy!'_)

* * *

…_the tension mounted between the two men to an almost unbearable amount- until at last they lunged for each other. Hands frantically grasping for a hold of the other's clothing, Elric gasped heatedly as he was finally able to thrust his-_

"Don't finish that sentence!"

"Ah?" Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at the…tomato-colored Weasel? He smirked- "Lovely color Weasel- almost as red as that mop you call hair."

Ron snarled- "Sod off," he clamped his hands over his burning cheeks, "Uh- I don't think that's how the Goblin War of 1587 came out."

"Aw, but my version is so much more interesting, Won-Won." Draco's smirk widened as Ron sputtered in indignation.

"Dammit, Malfoy! Don't call me that-"

Draco pinched one red cheek and grinned roguishly, "Don't be silly Dumpling, the name suits you. Now about this project…I was thinking of performing a dramatic reenactment- of my version of course- We should probably start practicing now…you know, to be ready in time for the due date…"

A squawk of surprise and terror followed Draco's lunge, "H-hey now! That's off-limits, you hear? Aack! N-not t-there!"

* * *

Hermione quirked one eyebrow and barely held in a snicker at the sight oh-so-conveniently displayed before her. It was just so utterly delicious!

Blaise twitched, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. "Erm- a hand?"

She smirked, cocking her head at his prone form, "Oh, but you seem to already have two extra- and _so_ eager too."

Marla Brasset merely sighed happily and continued her assault on the boy's robes. She bit her lip anxiously as they refused to part, denying her a glance at the divine body she just _knew_ was hidden underneath. Goodness sake, **must **the uniforms be that shapeless monstrosity? It simply didn't do the lovely bums of Hogwarts justice! Especially the bums of certain Slytherins recently sighted on Hogsmeade visits wearing muggle jeans- Mmm…that naughty, _naughty_ boy.

Blaise squinted down at the petite girl currently clawing at his clothes, and sighed, sending his most pathetic pout up at a bushy-haired girl far too amused at his tragic situation.

"You know, you could at least pretend to be sympathetic."

Hermione attempted to keep a chuckle from escaping- "You are so right. I'm terribly sorry you are being lusted after by a Fourth-Year Hufflepuff."

"E-eh?" Blaise squeaked as his robes were breached; nimble fingers reached for the buttons of his jumper-

"H-Hermione!"

She huffed, puffing out her cheeks childishly while pulling out her wand and muttering a half-hearted spell.

"You ruin all of my fun, Blaise."

Tugging his ripped shirt closed to maintain some semblance of modesty he tried to subdue the flush flooding his cheeks.

"As always, happy to be of assistance."

She chuckled, offering him a hand up and heaving him up a moment later. Out of unspoken agreement they headed down the corridor towards Potions, the class they'd been headed to before being ambushed.

"I absolutely adore the girlfriend. New addition, is she?"

Blaise growled- he so felt his twitch starting up again. "She is not my girlfriend, dammit."

Hermione chuckled, tossing her hair and drumming a merry little tune on her text. "She's just so demure! People can't fake things like that, you know!"

The teasing tone wore away his gruff mood, a smile slowly appearing, "I'm thinking of dropping her actually."

A horrified gasp was the response, "Oh dear, whatever for?"

Blaise eyed his companion, letting his gaze rest fondly on cinnamon eyes sparkling over with mirth. He placed a hand to his heart, "She is just so cold," he bemoaned. "I get next-to-no affection. Hermione," he clutched his sleeve, sniffing slightly, "I think she's cheating on me!"

"Indeed?" Hermione grinned, "You really do have quite the following, Blaise."

"Ah?" All pretenses ofplaying a gamedropped, he quirked a questioning brow. "How so? Besides my little stalker back there, of course."

She scoffed, "You have a fanclub didn't you know? They meet every erm- Thursday, I believe. In the back of the library."

Blaise paused- she knew the specifics? Uh- he suddenly beamed, "And you're a member, I assume?"

Choking, Hermione blushed furiously under his scrutiny- "No! Of course not! The very thought-"She cleared her throat, "I just hear them- their little _club_ meeting is at the table next to mine and all."

Not disheartened in the slightest, Blaise threw an arm around her shoulders, oblivious to her ever-darkening flush. "Well, darling, if I'd known you loved me that much…"

"Now w-wait just a minute!"

He extracted his arm and, grabbing her hand instead, propelled her down the hallway. "Not now, Peaches," he threw a roguish wink over his shoulder at her. "We've a Snape to visit."

---


	32. Unfortunate Events: Dates and Detentions

Chapter 32:

Unfortunate Events: Dates and Detentions

---

It really was an unfortunate turn in events. Not only that- oh no, things could never be left at merely 'unfortunate'- but it was steadily growing worse.

Naturally the reference to 'it' could be a great many things- a broom, a toad, perhaps a person?

Malcolm clucked his tongue softly- third time's a charm. Well, if you could even call that Hufflepuff _menace_ a person. He was more like a…puppy. A two-legged, small, scruffy and _chatty _puppy.

He braced himself for impact and did his best to weather the bear-hug being wrought on him. And to think the _thing_ was three years older even…it really was a pity.

"So I was thinking- maybewecouldgositupbytheShriekingShackandifIgotcoldyoucouldputanarmaroundmeorsomethingandthenafteranintensemakeoutsessionduringwhichyoutellmethatyou'velovedmeforyearsandyearsandyearswecouldgoandgetabutterbeer."

Processing the information, Malcolm winced as the older boy clung to his robes whimpering pathetically, "Or we could skip the Shrieking-Shack-making-out parts and just get a butterbeer."

Ernie beamed, turning and tugging his new _boyfriend_ toward The Three Broomsticks, "And this- **this** is why we are so perfect for each other!"

"Uh- yeah…"

"Hey-"Ernie frowned, just remembering something. "Why did you want to know how I'm getting Hermione and Blaise together anyway?"

"I- um…wanted to help?"

"Really? Oh _fuck_! This is fantastic! You know, boyfriends do this stuff together anyway…I can't wait to tell Parvarti and Lavender!"

"Yay?"

* * *

Snape glowered at his Sixth-Year Potions class. You would think that Potter and Weasley would have given up on pretending to be even the slightest bit intelligent- but of course, they were Gryffindors, after all.

Not to mention they were a complete and utter distraction to his wonderful students! Potter just because he was Potter, and Weasley because- Well, he hadn't quite gotten that far in his ranting. But rest assured- Severus Snape, resident Potions Pro and All-Around-Good-Guy (though that title remained debatable in some circles), would get to the bottom of the imbecile's interference!

Ron simply cringed as the threat of the Potions Professor looming over him was added to the trouble of the blonde burr burrowed into his side.

"And _Mr. Weasley_- been making new friends, have you?"

"Erm-?" The redhead squeaked and pulled at his captive arm fruitlessly- '_Must hide- go, go, go!'_

Snape sneered at the boy's attempts at escape- there would be **no survivors**. At least not of the Weasley persuasion.

"An answer in proper English is always appreciated."

"S-sorry Sir, um? He's just sort-of attached!"

Draco's eyes blinked open, his head turning to allow a beam toward his favorite Professor. "Mmm- problem?"

The smile was his downfall. Snape stuttered a response regarding chamber-pots and their uses in Wheezing Fizzbangs or Fizzing Whizbirds or something of the sort and limped wearily back to his desk.

Flopping down into his seat, he allowed a shudder to run through his body- there was just something so _wrong_ about a Malfoy smiling. He sighed and wearily let his gaze roam over the classroom.

Good god! What madness was this? The Weasley-Draco table he could deal with- why just last week, Draco had expressed his supreme undying affection for cheese slathered toast and Terry Boot (no-doubt linked to his obsession with shoes…and cheese products). No House or fattening substance was safe from his free-love policy.

But this- **this **was a travesty! What was it, an epidemic?

Sweeping up from his chair, Snape stormed over to the table in question, mumbling incoherencies all the way.

"**Granger! Zabini!** What is the meaning of this little **_tryst_**?"

Hermione and Blaise glanced at each other- was there even a right way to answer?

"Well, you see-"

"**_Silence,_**" Snape hissed, spitting in fury.

"While Dumbledore may approve of these…liaisons, I will not lie to you- I find them disgusting! Just look at you two- you are corrupting my classroom with your perverse actions!"

Blaise glanced doubtfully at their half-chopped Potions ingredients, "Um- perverse?"

Glowering, Snape stalked back to the front of the room to address the class, "Yes, perverse."

"Students," he began with a grave face. "The administration will tell you many things- among these, that you should do your best to- what was it? Oh yes, 'promote cooperation and friendship between the Houses'" he finished mockingly.

"This is- **Not now Finnigan!**- wrong in so many ways. The Houses should not be reconciled in any means, and this sort of inter-House relationship," he motioned between Hermione and Blaise, "is nothing but a disgusting attempt at perversion."

"Hear, hear!"

Snape whirled on Draco in a flurry of anger and dark robes, "Quiet! I'm speaking to your Father about _your_ choice of company!"

Hermione cringed, "Not **that** again…"

Still shaking with fury, Snape sat in exhaustion, "But for now- detentions for Granger, Zabini, Weasley, Malfoy, and Potter."

Harry stood in outrage, "That's ridiculous- I haven't said anything all day!"

"Unprovoked outburst at your Professor, **Potter**, deserves a detention." Snape hissed with unabashed glee.

"_Bloody_-"

* * *

Detention with Snape was many things- mostly unpleasant. There was some debate over whether they should be dubbed 'unbearable' or merely 'intolerable', but it was a general consensus that they were in no way enjoyable.

While Blaise pondered this all-important question, he threw himself down in a desk not taken up by a frighteningly bubbling cauldron. To his right, Ron looked rather green, though Blaise wasn't sure if it was from the smell of burning rubber (?) coming from said cauldrons, or the blonde enthusiastically attempting to crawl into his lap. He supposed it could have been a combination of both.

A moment or so passed, and the stage was set.

Three tables in the classroom emitted a sickening aroma, large orange-colored bubbles popping occasionally on the surface of iron-cast cauldrons, and those unfortunate enough to be assigned detention by Snape while he was in one of his _moods_ were scattered about the room.

Blaise himself sat at the back, Ron (and consequently Draco) to his immediate right, and Harry and Hermione sat at the table in front of them, no-doubt deep in some life-as-we-know-it altering conversation.

Feeling the atmosphere was set at its fullest- with the dark sounds of bubbling echoing off of the walls in some sort of agonized _gurrop! gurrop!_- Snape swept into the room, his robes flaring out dramatically behind him. Walking down the center aisle of the classroom, he was careful to whap Weasley in the face with the edge of his wildly swinging sleeve. Reaching his desk, Snape paused for effect, and then whirled on them in a cyclone of dark material and oily hair.

"Lines…" he murmured mysteriously, widening his eyes.

'_What…?' _was the thought of those poor, unfortunate souls left at Snape's mercy.

"Yes, lines…" Snape continued, his voice still a raspy whisper. He reached behind him for a stack of neatly cut slips of paper, taking a step to the nearest student.

"**LINES**, Mr. Potter." He slapped a slip of paper on the table, "You will write this one hundred times- or until I say."

Hermione was next: "Miss Granger, perhaps you will rethink your actions now." He sneered, sliding on of the slips toward her, "One hundred as well."

Blaise: "I am ashamed, Zabini. One hundred." Another slip was slammed down onto the table.

Ron: The paper fluttered down of its own accord, hoping to escape the strangling grip of the Potions Master. "_Weasley…_lines. One hundred. Try to progress past your usual chicken scratch."

And then there was one…

"Draco…"

Draco fluttered his eyes coquettishly, "Yes, Professor?"

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"No," Draco responded cheerfully, latching onto Ron's waist despite the boy's protests.

"Very well, you will also write one hundred lines. Your paper…"

"Thank you, sir."

Snape gave a non-committal mumble and made his way out of the door, "I am sealing this room. One thousand lines should take you approximately two hours, if you take the time to reflect on what you are writing. I will personally unseal the room at 9 o'clock and check to see your work. Begin…**now**!"

He slammed the door, making the proper motions for a sealing spell, and smirked as the sound of hastily scratching quills erupted from inside. He loved teaching.

---


	33. A Travesty of a Papery Sort

Chapter 33:

A Travesty of a Papery Sort

---

She stared in silence at it. This…**this**-

…Well, it was a slip of paper. But honestly, did Snape have nothing better to do?

_I am an annoying little know-it-all. I will keep my exceptionally bushy head out of other's business. I will not throw my tart self at any students from the Slytherin House or any other._

She had to write that _one hundred times_?!

Harry must have heard her disgruntled gulp, because a second later he was popping his scruffy-haired head over her shoulder and snooping over her lines.

'_Busybody,' _she muttered inwardly, feeling just a tad cranky.

"Oh, that's too bad Hermione," he sympathized, patting her back absently. "I only have _I am an insufferable twit who should keep his mouth shut._"

Hermione growled and threw a murderous glance to the brunet Slytherin in the back of the room. Bastard…it was his entire fault anyway. If only he weren't so…_there_, she wouldn't be so…bugger.

She sniffed irritably as he glanced up to meet her stare. 'What is it?' she could see him mouth, but Hermione simply huffed once more and whirled in her seat. It was a very dramatic action and carried her point across winningly, even if it did nearly knock her to the floor.

* * *

Draco sneered as he loosened his hold on Ron's arm- weren't the lovebirds sweet? The smirk became a leer as he felt the Weasley muscles beneath his hand flex, the other boy beginning his lines. All evil, manipulative, and Slytherin-ish thoughts flew from his mind and he melted. '_Oh…'_

Pothead in front of him squirmed in his seat; Draco could see his neck turning slightly green-tinted and snarled, effectively wiped of his Hot-Weasel induced daze.

Right- so how to break up bush-head and Zabini? It would be difficult as Zabini was utterly besotted, but there had to be a weakness there somewhere! Draco tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully and oh-so-innocently shoved his parchment and lines off of the table.

Hmmm…so there was setting Zabini up with someone else. But he was pathetically hung up already so that wouldn't work. Then Granger? _Ugh_- but who would take her? Draco shuddered in revulsion, _'New idea…'_

So then- he could kill the fluff-ball? Oh…that was no good either- he smirked and snuggled closer to Ron- it wouldn't do to make his Weasel upset…

All of a sudden the answer to his trouble flashed obnoxiously across his thoughts. 'DiViDe AnD cOnQuEr!!' flashed in neon green lettering, making him blink as the afterimage disappeared and he realized the supreme _genius!_ of the plan.

'_Muahahahaha hahaha hahaha…' _

Ron held back a whimper as his arm was nearly ripped from his body. Dear lord…when would he be saved?

Draco Malfoy was up to something Ernie decided. He'd called this special meeting of the E-P-L ("Geez- it stands for Ernie-Parvarti-Lavender, you dope!") society for just that reason. The club's three members and the reluctant boyfriend of their President ("You'll be the First Husband!") were sitting in a misshapen circle to discuss their opposition's moves.

"Malfoy was seen approaching Harry Potter on the day of March thirteenth at precisely 12:22 pm. It should be noted that Ronald Weasley was present at this meeting and the meeting preceding it on the sixth of March at 5:57 pm." Parvarti recited in a bored voice- this summary of events was merely for the benefit of their newest member.

"We have little knowledge of the events of the sixth of March, as that was before we began thorough surveillance of the activities of Malfoy, but we do know, according to an eyewitness, that the meeting was incited by Malfoy through some sort of note sent to the others.

"There have been two meetings so far, but we have reason to suspect that they are corresponding through mail as well. Overall, it is apparent that they have allied against our cause. We now have at least three enemies."

Malcolm's mouth was still agape, though he shut it violently when Ernie gave him a suggestive look, licking his lips. "You…did a lot of research."

Ernie seemed offended. "Of course! This is a life-and-death matter!"

"Right…"

Lavender interrupted them, shoving a stack of papers in to the center of the circle. "Here are the letters we were able to acquire."

Malcolm blanched…again. "H-how did you-?"

"We rooted through Ron and Harry's trash. Harry tears up the letters, but Ron just folds them up before he tosses them."

"Huh…" Bloody hell, these people had gone nutters…

_Weasel-_

_I've sent Pothead a note already so don't bother telling him- we need to meet again. Tomorrow at 12:20 or so, when everyone else is at lunch, come to the Room of Requirement._

_On another note, how about continuing our scene practice? You know, for the History of Magic project? I feel like I haven't truly __**captured**__ your character… _

_-Your Lovebunny_

Malcolm blinked, more than a little disturbed. "'Weasel'? 'Pothead'? 'Lovebunny'? Do they have code names or something?"

"Of course! Any self-respecting group does!"

"…Do we?"

Ernie clucked sympathetically. "_Naturally_. Parvarti is 'Gossip Princess', Lavender is 'Rainbow Pony', I'm 'King Sneaky', and you, love of my life, are 'Cuddle Bear.'"

Malcolm passed out- the horror was too much to bear. Hehehe…'bear.'

* * *

_Cuddle Bear, _

_I hope you're feeling better! You gave me quite the scare fainting like that. I suppose I was too rough on you…? Just kidding, sweetkins! Anyway, the E-P-L-M (do you see how we added your name?) is going to be due for another meeting. Come to the empty classroom in the Charms corridor tomorrow at 7 am. I'm so glad that you want to help! Your suggestions regarding Plans A, F and T were greatly appreciated!_

_Love, _

_King Sneaky_

* * *

_Malfoy, _

_I don't know what the hell you're up to, but you are going to owe me __**a lot**__ once this is all over. I talked to MacMillan about their plans (yes, more than one) yesterday. The main one involves them locking Zabini and Granger in a closet, so I don't think you need to be worried. Though, I am a bit concerned about what lengths they're willing to go to. They rooted through Weasley's trash for letters and have been following all three of you around all week. I have a feeling they are all mad, so good luck!_

_-Malcolm Baddock_


	34. The Culmination of Plots

Chapter 34:

The Culmination of Plots

---

Draco Malfoy inspected the correspondance with all the seriousness required for the current situation. He held it near-reverently, its frayed edges delicately pinched and straightened. The paper seemed to mumur its gratitude for the gentle care, rustling ever so in the slight breeze. Draco felt moderately creeped out at the thought.

Nevertheless, the paper deserved all the attention he could spare, even if it seemed to have a bit of a crush on him- though really, who could blame it? Draco was simply too…well- himself- to be anything _but _admired with a passion.

That what's-it Third Year's scribbled handwriting stared up at him, mocking his squinted eyes, and Draco cursed the little bastard for his noticable lack of an aristocratic nature. Peasant…

"Lock them in a closet? So that's their game…" Draco whispered into the empty room once he had finished translating the note from his little spy. The Slytherin cracked a small smile knowing that his original plan would not be greatly affected. A closet? What amateurs! Though…the things he could do to his very own red-head in one of said closets… A shudder ran through him, and he fought to stay focused.

_'So- if DIVIDE AND CONQUER is still available…' _Draco smirked in delight, and readied a quill and parchment.

_Pot-Head and Divine Creature, _

_The short kid from Hufflepuff and the two harpies in your House are hatching a scheme that involves a certain couple and one of the castle's many closets. I'm sure you might have noticed the disadvantage this would give us in pursuing our common goals. I would like to suggest a slightly revised plan at our next meeting- _

* * *

"Oi- Malfoy!" 

"Darling!"

Ron winced and took a step behind Harry, hoping the shorter boy would be able to shield his as-of-yet untouched body. With that thought, he took a moment to allow some self-pity and shudder.

Harry seemed to get the idea and headed off the blond with an arm. "Can we get down to business?" The Slytherin frowned, but eventually gave in with a huff of breath. As all three paced in front of the hidden door to the Room of Requirement, Ron made sure to focus extra hard on what they needed, to make up for whatever perverted scheme was going through Malfoy's head.

"Well," Draco started, taking up his position as leader (for for else was so suited to the position? Ohohoho!) at the front of the room. "I suppose you both received my letter."

"_Please_, Malfoy," Harry deadpanned.

"All _right_ all ready!" Draco took a moment to compose himself. "The plan this time is simple: when the Hufflepuff and the two bints attempt to lock our targets in a closet together- no doubt to achieve carnal and emotional satisfaction between the two ("What?!" Ron sputtered.)- _we_ will be waiting in the sidelines! And here is the climax: _We let them __of the closet!_"

"…"

Ron was the one to finally break the uncomfortable silence: "So that's all?"

Sneering, even if it was at his Lovely, Draco crossed his arms across his chest. "No," he bit out defensively. "After doing that we just keep them away from each other. Their _feelings_ should die out soon after."

Harry, who had been contemplating this Master Devious Plan to himself, interjected thoughtfully, "We won't be able to do that on our own. We can't be with Hermione every second, you know."

"I _know_, Pothead!" Draco was panting harshly from his yell. "We need reqruits, that's all."

"Right…" Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but unfortunately, his friend was still occupied in avoiding the blond who was sidling up to him. "And who are we supposed to get?"

Draco snarled as he was interrupted in mid-Weasley hug, "Don't make me do _all _the work around here! Can you think for yourself- or is that out of your ability range?!"

"_Fine_," Harry returned, grabbing Ron and turning toward the door. "Let's go, Ron."

Ron merely whimpered as Draco dug in his nails.

* * *

"Well, well- If it isn't little…ah-" Draco floundered for a moment before finally snapping his fingers at Theodore. "Name?" he questioned with a snarl. 

Theodore gave a wry smile in return, and consulted his records- a composition notebook having seen better (Malfoy-free) days- and scoured it with the ease that could only come with much practice.

"Ian Flemming," he finally supplied, spotting the name under "Hufflepuff", "First Year", and "Pathetic Sniveling Twit", along with a few notes on his appearance (short, mousy, perpetually quivering in fear) to separate him from the some dozen other names matching those categories.

"Right. Flemming-whatever…" Draco smirked as the First Year quaked in fear. "I have a little job for you."

* * *

Ian Flemming was concerned, to say the least. He hoped the Universe would not crash down with Draco Malfoy's evil, devious plot coming to fruition, but felt there was nothing he could do to avoid the beating he would get should he have refused Malfoy's…erm- proposal. 

With a squeak he entered the Library, flailing around uselessly until a sharp glance from Madam Pince had him cowering, once more, in fear. The woman seemed to see he would be traumatized shortly and pulled back, barking a short "Get moving!" to clear him away from her desk and latest romance novel.

Ian complied, scurrying into the center of the room, and moving even more quickly once he saw his target at a table surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. The bushy head bobbed over a quill and parchment, and Ian felt almost guilty for disturbing the obviously productive girl. Oh well- it had to be done.

"H-Hermione!"

"Hmm?"

Ian mouth almost (_almost!_) dropped open in surprise- she didn't even look up! "U-um…Hermione? I w-was wondering if…if you'd be willing to tutor me?"

The girl finally glanced up, cocking a brow in question as she noted the small boy wasn't from her House. "Wouldn't you rather go to own of your own Housemates?" she ventured.

"They're…um," Ian mumbled, cursing himself inwardly- _Of course_, she would ask this! Why wasn't he prepared?! "They're much too busy to help me now."

"Well," Hermione said, mentally calculating her schedule, "I suppose I could give you some help. We'll meet here- let's say, tonight at seven?"

"Yes! Thank you!"

"No trouble at all."

As Ian left the Prefect to her studies, he recalled that he actually _was_ doing awfully in Transfiguration.

* * *

Ernie cackled to himself (and his captive audience of stuffed animals) as made plans for that night. Those two wouldn't know what hit them! Soon, the castle would be full of miniature Hermione-Blaises and Ernie would be free to snog his own boyfriend. Mm…lovely boy.

* * *

Blaise surveyed the room, and the blond in it, with suspicion. All of Slytherin had been acting rather peculiar that day- he knew it could only stem from one person. 

"Draco," he bit out harshly. "What the hell is going on?"

The blond raised watery eyes to him, and Blaise cursed that he actually felt the remote emotion of pity rising up in his blood. "What's happening?" he repeated again, more gently.

Draco chewed on his lip viciously, before breaking out into real tears. "It's- It's my Weasel!"

Blaise considered asking if said weasel had been run over by a car, but ceased that thought as he recalled the Weasel was actually a person. These things were so difficult to keep track of.

"Yes?" Blaise prompted.

"He- I saw him s-snogging Granger!"

Blaise wondered if he was having some sort of attack- his heart was pounding so quickly it felt as if it would burst from his chest. "What?"

"In the C-Charms corridor after their class. I went… t-to see my Weasley and ask- ask him to H-Hogsmeade again, because he- he said _no_ last time I did and I wanted to-"

Realizing the other was babbling, Blaise wrapped a comforting arm around the blond- he always did take crushes so seriously. "It'll be alright, Draco. You'll find someone else."

"N-no! There's _no one _else!" Draco cemented his performance into place with his trademark Clingy-Heartbroken-Best-Friend move- in a neat twist of limbs, he burrowed into his friends chest, forcing the arms to encircle him. Draco made sure to jolt his body with sobbing movements, and pinched his cheeks harshly to draw out more tears (though the first ones had been hard enough to come by)- hopefully a large enough amount that Blaise would be able to feel the moisture seep through his shirt.

It was classic. It was genius. It was as per usual for Draco Malfoy.

_Just __and beat that, Pothead,_ Draco anounced smugly to himself.

---


	35. Of Mental Breakdowns and Sappy Endings

Chapter 35:

Of Mental Breakdowns and Sappy Endings

---

Blaise didn't know what to think as he wrung the tears out of his shirt tail and trudged down the corridor. Draco had been beside himself for nearly an hour, and though he felt guilty for leaving his friend to deal with his heartbreak alone, Blaise had some thinking to do. Unfortunately, his mind didn't seem to agree with him, as it whirled in a chaos of images and feelings.

**You were upset in the room back there.**

_Well, of course I was. It's not everyday you walk in on you best friend bloody wailing over a bloke!_

**So you were upset because of what Weasley did to Granger?**

_Right! How could he do that when Draco has been- ah…wooing him?_

**It's positively shameful. You're just concerned for your friend.**

_No question whatsoever! If Weasley had just shown a bit of foresight as to whom he was supposed to be snogging…_

**Not Hermione Granger, you mean.**

_Yes. You see, Draco had a sort of claim on Weasley, and-_

**And not on Hermione.**

_You get the point! He has no bloody business placing his lips anywhere __ Hermione!_

**Because you're concerned for Draco.**

_…Ah? Oh. Oh yes. Right- I am most definitely concerned for Draco. He's very…sensitive._

And that was that. He'd just have to have a little chat with Weasley.

Blaise pivoted on his heel and readjusted his route for the Gryffindor Common room. Unless… were they still at it in the Charms corridor? He paused in mid-step, debating his choices. After a moment of reflection, he continued heading for the Common room. They had to go back at some point, didn't they?

------------

Hermione was in a closet. A broom closet to be precise, full of rotting wood, cleaning supplies and a subscription to _Dungeons and Catacombs: A Guide to the Art of Torture (and Its Effects!). _She was also quite sure- oh yes, _quite__- _that the despicable Ernie MacMillan, the two giggling twits she roomed with, and some unidentifiable boy (who seemed rather uncomfortable) were behind the deed. It was then fairly obvious that they were also behind the stranding of Blaise Zabini in the closet with her.

"Get me out of here, you-" Hermione screeched at the door, clawing at the wood as if it were Ernie's freckled face.

Ernie cackled from behind the door. "Calm down, Hermione. You know, this is for your own good! Isn't that right, Cuddle Bear?"

"Hn."

Blaise squinted in the dimly lit room, recognizing the grunt after a moment of recollection. "Baddock, I will kill you if you don't open this door."

The door handle jiggled for a moment and then there was an exclamation from the other side. "Cuddle Bear! You know we can't let them out yet! You are so silly- mm, come here…"

The following sounds were so graphic, Blaise was decidedly glad the door had remained shut. _That poor bastard…_ he thought to himself, knowing MacMillan's _tastes_ through rumors and gossip- most of it coming from Draco, but he guessed at least a third of it was accurate, which caused him to shudder involuntarily.

"Now," Ernie said, his voice breathy and higher than usual, "We'll just leave you here to work things out for a while. Let's go, Cuddle Bear."

"Hn." Blaise thought Baddock's grunt sounded a bit weaker than normal. _Oh dear Merlin…_

Hermione shifted irritably in the confined space, huffing when a mop handle was caught between her and the wall. "This is ridiculous. Did you keep your wand?"

Blaise frowned, disappointed with himself. "No, they stripped it from me rather quickly. They must have been planning this for a while."

"I didn't manage to hold onto mine either," she admitted in return. "What now?"

"We humor them, I suppose," Blaise said, already regretting the decision to hunt down Weasley for- erm… hurting Draco.

"Did they say what they wanted from us?"

"…Hermione- there are only so many things they could have wanted us to do in here." At her disgruntled silence, he continued. "A) They want us in a confined space to keep us out of the way for a period of time; B) They'd like to see us ripping each other to bits; or C) They fancy themselves matchmakers and want us to have at each other."

"Oh dear."

"My thoughts exactly. It clearly isn't A, as there is no reason we would have to be together in a closet. It also isn't B, because they're a Hufflepuff, two Gryffindors, and a whipped Slytherin. Plus, we aren't like Draco and Potter. So that leaves…"

"Option C."

"You got it."

"Well," Hermione huffed out. "I'm afraid they will have to be disappointed. That is just not going to happen."

"I know."

Hermione glared viciously at him, though the effect was somewhat lost by the fact that he was unaware of her fury. "Excuse me?"

"You are with Weasley, after all."

"What sort of _sick_ joke-"

Blaise frowned in her direction. "What do you mean 'joke'? Draco walked in on you-"

"That's preposterous! Ron is like a brother to me- I would never do such a thing! Especially since, well…you know."

"Ah."

"Yes."

They scrambled for each other in an instant, mouths meshing furiously. Bushy brown hair entwined with dark hair that curled _just_ right at the ends, and somehow the mop that had been digging into Hermione's back simply disappeared, falling to the floor with a clatter.

The embrace had lasted no more than two minutes, when came a rather uncharacteristic hiss. "Where the bloody hell is your hand, Blaise?"

Blaise snatched back his hand from its deviation up Hermione's side and met her scowl with a sheepish expression. "It slipped. Ah, sorry."

Hermione eyed him carefully before reaching forward to clasp their hands tightly- just in case. In the same movement she leaned forward and their lips met again. Blaise wondered how he had never known how difficult it was to kiss without hands before. He was just getting into the motions, squeezing Hermione's hands to make up for their inactivity, when the door creaked open.

"What the hell?!"

Harry Potter did not seem pleased.

----------------------

"-don't know _what_ I was thinking, listening to _you_ of all people. I can't believe this-"

"Well, it's not exactly a walk in the park for me either, Potter."

"Hermione… But you- And we- Did you really… Wha-?"

Draco seethed as he surveyed the scene. Honestly! This was indecent! Granger and Blaise were in the throes of what appeared to be a very intense snogging session, Pothead was bitching at him about his plan failing (when it was really that little rat who made them late!), and his Weasel looked stunned and confused. Aw…

"Mm, Won-Won- my poor baby…" It was to Draco's advantage that Ron was too shellshocked to flinch out of the impromptu embrace.

Harry finally sighed, giving up. Both of his friends were apparently dating (evil git) Slytherins. "I'm going to go find Neville." That's right- he was the only one with a _normal_ relationship… Suck that, Malfoy! _Harry's_ boyfriend didn't need to be tied down to accept a hug! Well…except that one time, but it wasn't exactly a _hug_- Mmm… Where was Neville now ? The greenhouses? Harry was off without another word.

Hermione huffed, extracting herself from Blaise's arms and snapping in front of Ron's face. When he came to, she ruffled his red hair, taking supreme sadistic pleasure in his cries for mercy. "Grow up, Ron," she said finally, hitting upside the head once for good measure. "I'm going to be dating Blaise now, m-kay?"

Ron moaned in pain, shrinking away from her even as he nodded in agreement hysterically. Blaise merely wondered if he would ever have control over his life again. When she turned and raised an inquisitive brow at him, he wondered if he even cared.

...Alright. Maybe he still cared a little.

She grasped his hand and tugged him off toward the Kitchens. "Come on- you've got to meet all the house elves now that you'll be a member of S.P.E.W.! There's just the matter of you're initiation dues, and of course- you need a pin! I'll get started right away on it-"

Oh dear Merlin. What had he gotten himself into?

---


End file.
